Home
by EOS16
Summary: A prequel (chapters 1 through 6) returns to the past to see where and how this tale unfolds from biblical times to the present. Chapter 7 picks up at the end of the season 1 finale where Lucifer is about to face the consequences of his mother's escape and her return to earth. Mum is a real handful and she is out to get him-but will he survive? angst/hurt/comfort/romance
1. Chapter 1

**Home**

 _Prologue:_

 _The Almighty rules the cosmos from His side of a half-empty throne. His chair, made of ancient olive wood, with ornate gold-rubbed carvings, imposes over the long-relinquished and noticeably vacant, unadorned, cedar chair that stands next to his. On the empty seat, a fresh cut bouquet of wild flowers and a wedge of honey cake have been placed as offerings to the Queen of Heaven, who had at one time shared the throne with Him._

 _Yahweh, who places those offerings on her side of the throne every day, still misses her. The fragrant wild flowers remind Him of her scent, and the honey cake, of her sweet tooth. His warm brown eyes, still sparkle at the thought of her; allowing himself a small knowing smile, He remembers when she had been, "daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him."_

 _Those idyllic days long gone, have given way to a tempest of words, deeds and intrigue: where waves of wrath, hate, cruelty, betrayal and revenge roil in the chasm that exists between Yahweh and his former consort._

Once Upon a Time in Heaven…

" _Before humans walked the earth, He had breathed life into one of His most wondrous creations—an enchantingly beautiful goddess whom He named Asherah. In the old language, her name had meant 'bliss,' and that is what she had brought to Him every single day they'd been together._

 _She was His divine companion, His consort and His wife. He'd imbued her with most of His own qualities and powers; she was His alter ego—the female dimension to His divinity. In her role as the Heavenly Mother, she and Yahweh birthed many celestial beings—seventy gods and goddesses in all._

 _In times of yore she had been one of the most venerated and most powerful of all the deities, her preeminence was second only to her creator. Asherah's role as the goddess of fertility, motherhood and nurturing was deeply rooted in the cyclical renewal of life within nature, as it related to the earthly life cycle of humans._

 _The concept of fertility, as it pertained to the Mother Goddess, revolved not only around the issues of producing offspring, but to other integral aspects as well. In the old religion, followers prayed to the goddess to bless other events that were intrinsically tied to the land, such as weather events (drought or flood), and the husbandry of crops and livestock—all of which directly influenced the continued prosperity and good fortune of her worshipers._

 _Asherah, archetype for all Mother Goddesses who came after, had been worshiped in many ancient cultures under other names that span time and space: Athirat, Ashorath, Ishtar, Astarte, Artemis and Venus to name a few._

Under Every Living Green Tree

 _Throughout her tumultuous deity, Asherah remained a figure mired in paradox: she was continually sought and hidden, lost and discovered, she ascended and descended and, she was immanent and transcendent. Perhaps her greatest paradox of all, lies within the metaphor she is most closely associated with: The Tree of Life—grounded to the earth, it grows its branches upward to reach toward the heavens and to the promise of eternal life._

 _Her glory was to be discovered in high places. She planted her Asherim poles next to altars in temples and on top of hills overlooking the ocean. On hewed timber crafted obelisks, on simple wooden poles and upon living trees, her icons: The Tree of Life, The Serpent and The Lion, were carved. It was said that her idols were found under every living green tree._

 _In her time, the enigmatic goddess had been the mistress of many guises. She was the fountain of fertility and the spring of life. She was sensuality and sex personified. Her personas ran the gamut from the loving Venus to the raging blood thirsty Whore of Babylon."_

Lost but not Forgotten

 _Asherah was lost to us by deliberate action of fundamentalist monotheists whose agenda was to rid the bible of all the gods and goddesses of the old religion. Her images were torn down, her stories were rewritten, and then her name was forgotten—well, almost…_

Mrs. God?

 _Many have dismissed the claim as impossible. God never had a wife—so said the experts. But what if he actually did? What if we were able to reread the torn out pages of the early Bible wherein Asherah's divinity had been celebrated? What are we to make of the unearthed pieces of pottery in archaeological digs that depict the celestial consorts on a throne together and that contain inscriptions of offerings to them both?_

 _We would find that the long thought forsaken, divine couple, had indeed been worshiped together as God and wife: as Yahweh and his Asherah._

 _If the zealous monotheist editors of the early Bible had been able to erase all mention of her out of the scripture—as was their intention: Asherah, Hebrew Mother goddess, Consort of Yahweh and Queen of Heaven, would never have been seen or heard from again. Alas, those very same revisionist writers of the bible, who had been openly critical of Asherah, begrudgingly cited her at least 40 times in the Good Book. Unfortunately, in their attempt to portray the goddess in the worst light possible, the mentions that had been left in the bible were mostly of the unfavorable kind._

"Thou Shalt Not Put False Gods Before Me"

 _During the days of early Judaism, emerging Israeli settlers had come from an ancient culture that had traditionally worshiped many deities. In order to bring His new followers into the fold, Yahweh had found it necessary to populate his heavenly pantheon with Gods and Goddesses that were associated with the familiar functions of everyday life such as: love, war, fertility, motherhood, crops and good fortune._

 _God's Chosen People were not yet ready to fully embrace the concept behind the covenant they had made with Yahweh; they remained reluctant to put all of their faith in Him as the Almighty. The budding followers continued to cling to the ancient folkloric pre-religion of Judaism, seeking comfort in the more naturally apprehensible magical theism of the old ways._

 _As the time wore on, the celestial pantheon had become overcrowded with too many gods whose traits often overlapped. Yahweh's ultimate divinity was constantly being challenged. The time had come for him to enforce the covenant that he'd made with the Israelites when He had spoken through Moses: "Thou shalt not put false gods before me."_

 _Now it would be up to God to clean up his celestial house and abide by his own commandment—and clean house, he did._

 _Once and for all, God supplanted all of the other co-deities. The entire process took nearly a thousand years to accomplish, but by the by the end of the millennium, Yahweh assumed the mantel of Supreme Being._

 _He—and He alone—was in control of the divine powers and functions formerly in the hands of the gods and goddesses: who had been discredited, rendered powerless, eliminated from the bible and sent into oblivion._

Divorce Divine Style

 _For the most part, the gods accepted their fate and allowed themselves to willingly fade into obscurity. All except—Asherah._

 _After God had neutralized all of the other divine beings in his pantheon, he had the unfortunate task of sending his wife to the same fate. His cherished Asherah would be the ultimate casualty of his mandate to become the one true Almighty._

 _The battle between the revisionists and the old religion had played itself out, the earthly politics of the many versus the One had been decided. The fate of Asherah, who had been held in the balance for so long, longer than any of the other gods or goddesses, was sealed and inexorably heading toward the inevitable._

 _The religion of the revised bible, book of the iconoclastic monotheists, had been aimed at the citizenry of the ancient culturally elite centers of the coastal cities, where the wealthy and those of royal blood, had come to regard the worship of multiple gods as primitive and old fashioned._

 _The door was about to be shut on the oral tradition of the folkloric myths of the old religion. The farmers, the shepherds, the common folk of the tiny villages and the nomads who roamed the wilderness of the desert; they who did not worship in a grand temple, but chose instead to set up idols outside in nature to worship. The denizens of the outland, who were poor and largely illiterate, still clung to the old ways and to some of the old gods: unfortunately, 'the old ways' were about to be pulled out from under them._

 _With great sadness and with a heavy heart, Yahweh was resigned to fulfilling his destiny, he would be the only God, even if it meant ripping his beloved Asherah from his side. Perhaps because his pain was so great, the Almighty had decided that the best way to end their union should be carried out as promptly as possible—by making a clean break._

 _God divorced Asherah: suddenly, swiftly and without warning or explanation. He stripped her of her divinity, kicked her out of heaven, and cast her down to earth. Evidently, the divine divorce ended so badly, with Asherah suffering a fall from grace so complete and utterly devastating, that she was never able to recover from it. She went nearly mad._

Hell Hath No Fury…

 _After her fall, Asherah could not contain her rage. She had been discarded like trash. What could she have possibly done to deserve such a hard-hearted fate? She had been nothing but a devoted and loving wife and mother. In all respects, her marriage to Yahweh had been perfectly blissful. Not once had she ever tried to usurp her husband's Almighty divinity. Asherah had never been less than completely happy to share the throne with her consort._

 _Nothing could have prepared the Goddess for what had come to pass. Ever steadfast in her devotion to her husband, she had stood by Yahweh, even as He had rid himself of all the other gods and goddesses; He had never let on that she too would fall victim to his scourge._

 _The once loving and trusting spirit of the Goddess became possessed by darkness from her unbridled hate. Asherah had developed an all-consuming obsession to avenge her divorce from Yahweh. In a desperate attempt to regain some of what she'd lost, the goddess grasped at the remaining threads of her divinity, while fiercely trying to avoid fading into oblivion._

 _Once considered as the Heavenly Mother to all of God's divine creations and as the co-creatress who bore all of the gods in the pantheon, Asherah had served as a kind of celestial nursemaid to the angels that God had created before her. All of the angels except the one, who was the first and oldest of all his creations. The angel that had been created before time itself— Samael aka Lucifer._

 _Long gone from Heaven, Lucifer hardly knew Asherah. During the few times that they had met, her roving eye had made him uncomfortable. Since he was comparatively ancient to this trumped-up variation of a stepmother, he had little use for his Father's trophy wife and tended to ignore her. But as fate would have it, Asherah became fascinated with the fallen angel. She had developed incestuous inclinations toward Lucifer that would play themselves out through a portentous turn of events…_


	2. Prequel Chapter 2: The Message

Prequel:

Chapter 2: The Message

Sounds of unbridled laughter coupled with horrible screams, emanating from the chamber of torture and punishment, could be heard throughout the center of hell.

The cavernous chamber had been carved out from a mountainside of obsidian by the hands of the damned. With soaring ceilings where bats roosted, the rayless space was illuminated by heavy cast iron, candle lit, chandeliers and the walls were lined with sconces of roaring torches. The scene, which was mostly devoid of color, was punctuated with blood; deep shades of cadmium red, dripping from the instruments of torture, arcing sprays on the walls, and puddling under victims enduring various hideous punishments. The only pops of color came from demons scurrying about and the reflections of flames, bouncing off of the shiny black volcanic glass back drop of the walls.

A huge, flame-belching oven dominated the apse of the chamber; its stone exterior portrayed a carved demon face, whose eyes and mouth glowed from the fire within. The blast furnace was primarily used by the fallen angel Xaphan who fanned the flames and tended the fires of hell. Xaphan and his demon blacksmiths forged all of the heavy chains, clasps, hardware and instruments of torture. They also produced some of the finest and deadliest weapons in all of the universe: demon daggers, swords, and arrows—all forged in hell and deadly to all: divine, immortal and—especially to mortals.

When the devil was particularly busy and body parts began to pile up, they were burned in the oven to make room for more. The furnace powered by hellfire burned a hundred times hotter than any crematorium, immolating anything introduced into its fire-breathing mouth in a matter of seconds.

Eons of smoke had partially coated over the shine of the gemstone walls with charred soot and drifting layers of ubiquitous ash covered the bedrock floors. On most days a layer of thick smoke hung in the air of the windowless chamber. The only décor, if one could call it that, was all of the instruments of torture hanging from the chamber's walls. At the entrance, massive wrought iron detailed wooden doors ushered in the damned souls to the point of no return: a one-way ticket into the chamber of woe.

Lucifer and Mazikeen were in the midst of torturing a newly damned soul, stretching him to the breaking point on the rack. As his miserable body pulled apart, bones splitting and cracking, skin tearing and blood spurting—his screams curdled in the chamber of punishment and torture.

The devil, barely able to contain himself, bent over and seethed in the victim's ear: "So you wanted to be free from the yoke of your family—they weighed you down, held you back; they were… inconvenient. You decided to rid yourself of them, not by abandoning them; although that would have been the kinder route to take.

No, you decided to play God and end their lives. You stabbed them through the heart, each in turn, till you'd killed them all: your wife, your three sons and your infant daughter. And there you left them to be discovered huddled in front of the fireplace—a discarded pile of remains; their faces frozen in twisted horror from the final seconds of their lives as they watched you murder them one by one until there were none left to watch for you'd butchered every last one of them. Not a single speck of remorse did you feel, you walked out of your hovel with not but a care—you were free!

But not from me, oh—I've been waiting for you, waiting for you to die, waiting for you to come to me so that I may punish and torture you exquisitely for all eternity!" The words all but hissing out of Lucifer's lipless gaping hole, where his pearly white teeth peek from the sneer that had twisted itself from what had once been his mouth. Wringing his hands with glee, he shifts his gaze over to Mazikeen who is laughing ever so wickedly.

"Stop having so much fun, my dear, we really must get to the task at hand; today's list is long, besides I really can't wait to get to this bastard," the devil spits out with small flames sputtering from his mouth.

The king of hell was in his element, he never assumed his handsome angel form while working in the chamber unless one of his brothers dropped by for a visit. Right now, the devil in all of his glory, decides to finish off the family killer by unleashing bolts of fire from his fire-breathing maw that burns off all of his victim's skin—while he is still alive. The chamber now fully engulfed in smoke, reeks of burning human hide.

Mazikeen is virtually ecstatic, the smell of charred flesh is like perfume to the demon's nose and the tortured screams are like music to her ears; a snarling toothy grin has split her demonic visage as she continues to laugh with wild abandon.

Lesser demons bustle about to prepare the heap of burnt bones on the rack to reconfigure so that the cycle of torture may begin again. "Next…?" the tiny demons squeak.

Maze, regarding her master with a look of thorough enrapture, is so turned on by her lord's horrific acts of torture that she pulls the demonically morphed devil to her, loosening his robes, she begins to bite his neck and lick his partially flayed mottled purple and red scared chest while trailing downward. The exposed blood vessels on his neck begin to pulsate, soft puffs of flame escape from his mouth, Lucifer shuts what's left of his eyelids, guiding the demon's head down further, he takes in a sharp sigh as she reaches her destination.

The mood is abruptly broken when the devil senses a disturbance approaching; a bright light illuminates the sides of the great stone canyon as it descends the depths of hell: dropping closer and closer. Maze scowls as Lucifer pulls himself away, morphing into his angelic form, he steps out of the chamber and waits for the light to reveal the heavenly visitor.

It is Lucifer's little brother Gabriel, no doubt with a message from his Father. Ever since his fall, his Father no longer communicated directly with him. On the occasions when He'd sent word to Lucifer, it was always through the archangel Gabriel—God's special messenger.

The handsome angel bore long honey colored curling locks, framing a smooth boyish face with hazel colored eyes; he wore long flowing robes of golden yellow with shimmering silvery white edges and his wings, shone like the moon—bright silver white.

Pulling in his wings, the archangel's feet alight upon the ash covered floor of hell. One would think that locating his brother in the complete darkness of the pit would be nearly impossible, but it was actually pretty easy for Gabriel. All he had to do was follow the only spec of light in all of the place; the splendor of Lucifer's wings, always guided the messenger angel right to him.

For a few seconds, the two angels faced each other, trying to appear stone-faced, before breaking into laughter and falling into their familiar brotherly banter.

"Luci! Good to see you!" The amiable archangel pulled his brother into a warm embrace. Lucifer always a bit reluctant to trust when it came to his brothers, accepted the hug, but did not return it.

"It's good to see you too Gabe, it's been a while, what brings you down to the likes of me? A message from Father I suppose" Struck by a brief pang of hurt from the loss of his Father's love, it crosses Lucifer's mind that God hadn't reached out to his son in several eternities, except via Gabriel's messages.

Unlike some of Lucifer's other brother angels, Gabriel actually missed him, secretly, he wished his Father and brother could somehow reconcile so that Lucifer could come back home again.

"Yes, dear brother, I do have a message from Him, but it is only a brief one."

"Well then little brother, I don't have all day, there's a long list of punishment and torture that I must get back to—spill it out!"

"Very well," Gabriel smiles, "Father requests your presence at the Temple of Babylon to meet with Asherah at midday—today."

In the blink of an eye, Lucifer's demeanor transforms: his easy smile twists into a frown and his imposing wings instinctually fully unfurl in response to a perceived threat. Asherah was not exactly his favorite divine being, there was something about her that had always made him uncomfortable. He'd caught her leering at him and when she realized he'd seen her, she had laughed at him.

Towering over Gabriel menacingly, standing his ground, only inches away from his brother's face, Lucifer's jet black eyes glinting with fire, seized him in a gaze that sent chills down his little brother's spine. "Why do I have to meet with that infernal woman?" he sneered.

The young archangel, knew that his brother the devil could be a formidable adversary and was not one to be messed with. Gabriel was not looking for a fight, unlike his brother Michael, who would jump at the chance to take on Lucifer and take care of him for good.

Backing away from his older and more volatile sibling, the younger angel tries to diffuse Lucifer's mounting anger, "you know how cryptic Father is. I'm just the messenger brother. Can I tell him you will be there?"

Ever the tease, his big brother regains that devilish twinkle to his eyes while a sinful grin takes over his face. Lucifer snarks, "what if I don't show?"

Wearing his feelings on his sleeve, Gabriel, swallows hard and looks down at the ash covered ground while wondering, why this simple message was developing into such an ordeal. Obviously there had been some bad blood between Lucifer and Asherah that no one had known about…

Grasping his hands behind his back, the young angel fidgets with an errant wing feather, "Please Luci, you know I can't disappoint him."

"No need to worry little brother, I am only teasing you. I have no idea why he wants me to meet with that crazy ex-wife of his. I thought that was all dealt with. But, I will do as has been asked of me," the devil sighs in exasperation.

"Oh, and Luci, please don't take this the wrong way," Gabriel, continuing the tease match, "I know that you haven't been topside for a while, but you may want to 'freshen' yourself up a bit before coming back to earth. You know, brush off the ash and perhaps rid yourself of the odor of burnt flesh"

"Humph," the devil, looking ever so smug snickers, "You would do well to remember how splendidly I do clean up—Eve thought so too…"

Lucifer, elicited the effect he was looking for, as the young angel's face blushed hard at his mention of the devil's temptation of Eve. This last brotherly jab had clearly landed a disquieting blow upon the younger angel. Gabriel downcast his gaze, clearly not able to meet his brother's piercingly sardonic expression.

Not wanting to further trouble his little brother, Lucifer grabs him affectionately by the shoulders and brings his face in close to his, "you know I would never get you in trouble, you are one of the few who still genuinely cares about me and doesn't wish me dead."

"Now go back to Father before he wonders if I have corrupted you and decided to keep you down here with me."

Returning to his normal jovial state, Gabriel shares a good laugh with his brother. It pains his heart to see Lucifer exist in all of this darkness and endless punishment. Unfurling his wings, Gabriel's ascending light can be seen all over hell before he exits the darkness and heads toward the brilliance of heaven.


	3. Prequel Chapter 3 A Tear for the Devil

A/N: Asherah does not take rejection well, her temper gets the best of her and she mops the floor with our favorite devil. Warning, there are some violent moments in this chapter. In regards to Lucifer's B.C.E. look, I was influenced by the appearance of King Cenred as played by Tom Ellis in Merlin. The long flowing locks, close cropped beard and mustache are exactly what I pictured Lucifer in his angelic form to look like-at that time. I hope you are beginning to get your toes wet into this story. Please let me know what you think.

Prequel Chapter 3: A Tear for the Devil

The once goddess of nurturing had become consumed with madness and twisted with hate. Asherah knew exactly how she would extract the maximum revenge from Yahweh: through an intrigue involving His precious son—Lucifer.

What had started out as a plot to incite the wrath of her ex-husband by creating a perverse cult involving ritualistic prostitution, where she would persuade Lucifer to be her consort and co-deity, ended on a much darker ominous note.

Since Asherah and Lucifer had experienced the same fate at the hands of their Father, when he cast them out of heaven and caused them each to suffer devastating falls from grace, she reasoned that God's favorite son would be more than happy to stick it to his old man. And, that the devil he'd become would revel in the debauchery of the cult.

The goddess had sent for Lucifer to join her at the ancient temple of Babylon. She had no idea that her original invitation had been intercepted by her ex-husband; whose developing plan for his two most loved and troublesome creations was still in the works.

Her initial pretense for their meeting was to entice Lucifer with an opportunity that she was sure he was made for. At the same time, subconsciously, she had fantasized about acting on her hidden past desires of seducing the angel.

Unaware of the plot set afoot, Lucifer, who was then going by the name Ba'al in the bible, turned up at the temple at the appointed time.

The first thing Asherah had noticed about him, was his intoxicating scent. He smelled of the forest floor, like he had recently enjoyed a romp under evergreen trees. He wore a short royal purple tunic that fell to just above his knees, with a thin rope for a belt—and nothing else. Lucifer's shoulder length, wavy, pitch black locks, fell freely around his face, a short beard outlined his jaw and a thin mustache emphasized the curves of his lips. His glorious white wings, shimmered in the bright noonday light, their downy soft feathers rippling as if animated by an invisible breeze.

Lucifer paced impatiently at the temple entrance; his wings almost dragging on the stone floor behind him. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, there was something in the air that made the devil wary.

At first glance he was the very image of a beautiful heavenly angel, but on closer inspection, the glint in his eyes had a feral quality—there was nothing tame about him. He exuded carnality as befits the king of hell.

The goddess marveled at this most beautiful angelic creature standing before her with his wings fully unfurled—he took her breath away. Ever since Asherah had first laid eyes on him, she had harbored a secret lust for the fallen angel.

Asherah looked every bit the goddess that she was. A statuesque beauty with curves in all of the right places, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Her curling raven black hair which fell in waves down to the small of her back, contrasted with her porcelain complexioned face. The family resemblance between her and Lucifer and their creator was remarkable. Father and son both had deep brown, expressive eyes, fringed with long lashes that were capable of showing warmth or wrath in an instant. Asherah's eyes were lined with the same long black lashes as Lucifer and her ex-husband, but her eyes were a dreamy blue-green-gray; the color of the sea.

She shared the family nose, only hers was a more petite version and while her mouth also looked like theirs, her lips were fuller and more luscious. Asherah and Lucifer look so alike in so many ways that they could easily pass for fraternal twins.

On that day, the goddess was garbed in a very simple antique gown made from an ultra-fine white gold metallic threaded cloth that clung to every curve of her body in the most alluring way. With every move she made, the dress scintillated almost magically. It would seem that she was living up to her goddess reputation: she was sensuality and sex personified.

Standing by an ancient sacrificial altar within the temple, the imposing angel regards Asherah with suspicion, "why am I here with you: what do you want of me?" Sniffing the strong scent of Frankincense and Myrrh that permeates from the temple walls, he wrinkles up his nose and sneezes, "ugh, the scent of sacrifice—this place makes my skin crawl!"

On the other hand, Lucifer can't help taking in the beautiful and enthralling woman standing in the daylight deprived sacrificial chamber of the old temple. He wonders not so innocently, what it would be like to have sex with a goddess. Blinking away, the orgiastic images from his mind, he turns his undivided attention to Asherah.

Eating him with her eyes, Asherah slyly replies, "Samael, I summoned you here today because I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal for me?" he smiles mischievously, "and what kind of a proposal would that be?" His smile quickly fading as he begins to feel slightly uneasy, Lucifer asks, "Does this have anything to do with you and my Father and the messy ending of your marriage? Because, I'm not exactly in the best of His graces to speak to Him about it right now."

"No Samael, I'm not going to ask you to speak to your Father on my behalf," Asherah persists while stealing closer and still closer to him. "What I want to propose to you is an honor. I want you to be my consort in this cult I'm about to found that glorifies ritualistic prostitution and sex. Smiling ever so fetchingly, she continues, "I believe that you would be the perfect co-deity for it." Her voice sounds as sweet as honey as she tries to reel him in.

"As tempting as your offer seems," Asherah, "I'm not sure if it's something I'd really want to do. Father does keep me quite busy down in hell you know. On the other hand, I could certainly go for the wanton sex part, but not for the deity part. I really have no desire to be worshiped."

"Then leave the worship part up to me and become my consort," Asherah whispers urgently as she plies herself to him. Tiny sparks of electricity emit from her like an exquisite force field, causing Lucifer to gasp sharply as their bodies meet.

Stiffening under her touch, Lucifer feels a bit light headed and he's also feeling a slow warmth building in his groin. Fighting to keep self-control, he holds his arms tightly at his sides as he senses that things are about to go south with his former step-mother.

Lucifer has driven Asherah to distraction and she can take no more; she pushes him up against a large stone column and kisses him passionately. When she realizes that he is not returning the kiss, she looks up into his sullen face and asks—why?

"Because you belong to my Father and I won't go there." Lucifer answers curtly, all the while trying to squelch the growing stirrings of his arousal.

"But your Father and I are no longer married," she implores breathlessly.

He sighs, "you will always be my father's wife to me. Besides, you are more like my sister than a step-mother, after all, we were both created by Father." Lucifer feared incurring more of his Father's wrath if he should give in to her temptation. Choosing to avoid any further discord with God, he tries to free himself of her.

Asherah stops her seducement dead in its tracks; taken aback by his unexpected rejection of her advances, she glares at the angel incredulously and screams: "Are you saying no to me?"

Lucifer wonders what Asherah's real reasons were for bringing him here to this creepy old temple in the first place. Appearing somewhat confounded, the angel focuses his soft brown eyes down on the time-worn sandstone pavers of the temple floor. Averting his face from her scowl, he winces, "it would seem that I am."

Asherah doesn't answer him—the goddess is seething with rage. She slaps him across the face as hard as she can and screams, "insolent angel: how dare you!" Fuming, she spins away from Lucifer and turns her back to him. While trying to compose herself, she quickly reassesses her plan and makes a fateful and ultimately irreversible decision.

Meanwhile, Lucifer, who had been knocked all the way back to the temple wall from the force of Asherah's blow, rubbed the painful red welts on his face. He couldn't help feeling indignant; is this why Asherah had summoned him here—to jump his bones? His expression darkens and his eyes opaque with fury, glint of fire.

Not in the least bit intimidated by Lucifer's angry devil eyes, Asherah abruptly morphs into a huge black serpent that swiftly slithers its way up the angel's body; biting him repeatedly. Asherah had launched her attack on him so quickly that Lucifer hadn't had the time to even attempt to defend himself. Transforming back into the goddess, she steps away and watches her stepson collapse into a heap onto the ground as the venom begins to take effect.

Lucifer doesn't know what hit him. His eyes grow wide with fear, as he starts to feel the venom numbing his arms and legs. "Asherah," he pleads, "what are you doing to me?" He tries to get up, but can't, his limbs feel so heavy; they've moored him to the temple floor. As the numbness begins to settle in, his body convulses and goes limp, and his breaths come in short shallow rasps. Even his eyelids grow heavy—too heavy to stay awake, Lucifer begins to drift off.

Asherah is furious with Lucifer, he had driven her to distraction and then he had the nerve to turn her down? No one had ever turned her down. "Damn you—son! I will have my way with you!" She growls. Using her super goddess strength, she picks up the limp form of Lucifer by the neck and throws him like a doll across the temple chamber onto the sacrificial altar.

Slammed down on the slab of the ancient stone altar, stained through the centuries from the dried blood of animal and rumored human sacrifices committed there, Lucifer feels the cold hard stone crash against his spine. As the paralyzing effects of the venom really begin to take hold, his head flops over to one side, his red eyes, unfocused, flicker aimlessly as he starts to slip into unconsciousness.

"Oh no you don't!" Asherah shrieks as she tethers Lucifer's wrists to the altar's restraints: she slaps him awake. Standing at the altar between his legs, she rips his tunic all the way down the front exposing his fair skinned sinewy body. A smug smile lights up the goddess's face as she notes Lucifer's very apparent erection. Giddy with prurient anticipation, she climbs up on top of him and shoves him into her.

Barely able to speak, Lucifer cries almost inaudibly, "No—Asherah, please stop…no, please—don't!" In total desperation, Lucifer silently prays to his Father to make her stop this assault upon him. Waiting for a reply of any kind, or a sign: none appear. As bitter resignation takes hold, Lucifer realizes that his father has turned his back on him.

Had God chosen to abandon his son to the wiles of Asherah?

"Praying to your Father is a waste of time," Asherah sneers, "he forsook us both ages ago. I for one can't think of a better way to extract revenge on the bastard, than to ravish his favorite son. I hadn't thought about it before you insulted me by refusing my advances. But it all makes so much more sense now; this will be infinitely more satisfying—for me anyway." Laughing at Lucifer who is pinned beneath her, she begins her assault by gyrating with wild abandon on top of him.

Scared out of his wits, Lucifer realizes that he has lost control to a completely deranged divine being—a goddess no less. At the same time, he is so enthralled by her and so aroused by her, that he's about to explode.

Meanwhile from heaven above, Yahweh watched his plan derail. He had heard the desperate cries of help from his son but He could not stop Asherah. The best he could do at this point was to temporarily dull the effects of the assault. With the merest snap of His fingers, God watched as Lucifer immediately fell into a semiconscious state where he was only somewhat awake and able to understand what was happening to him.

Momentarily realizing that Lucifer was only partially conscious, Asherah continued on—hardly skipping a beat. Within minutes, Asherah and Lucifer are both moaning and panting like animals, as she begins to forcefully grind him into the altar. Lucifer's body takes over and responds: betraying its semiconscious host, Lucifer shudders as he and Asherah come in quakes of passion.

His Father wasn't done interfering yet. As his son releases his final shudder and comes deep inside of the goddess, Yahweh plants the brief vision into Lucifer's unconscious mind that he had already planned to. Closing his eyes briefly, God allows the vision to play itself across Lucifer's mind's eye. A short flash of heaven appears before him. Lucifer is in heaven…really back in heaven. He can hear the sweet sounds of the angels singing…he smells the lush flowering blooms of the garden…and…he revels in the peace and serenity that fills him…

After a few seconds, his Father blinks his eyes open; "it is done, the vision has been planted." He whispers.

Still semiconscious, Lucifer thought he was dreaming within a dream: Heaven? But as soon as he is able perceive it, the vision disappears as suddenly as it appeared. The peaceful expression on his face and the exceptionally broad smile that had spread across it, faded quickly along with his momentary reverie of heaven. As the reality of what had just been done to him begins to come back in bits and pieces, his expression turns from joy to agony

Unable to fully fathom it all, he allows the tendrils of dark fog that were at the periphery of his consciousness to engulf him. Completely paralyzed from the venom, the angel cannot move or speak. Lying perfectly still on the altar, he is not even able to open his eyes. The only movement coming from him was that of a lone tear running down his cheek.

Asherah, exhilarated, looks down upon her conquest to find him passed out and powerless beneath her. She had vanquished him. The goddess hadn't planned on decimating her poor stepson—but an empty victory, is nonetheless—still a victory.

A few hours later, when the venom should have begun to wear off, Asherah removed the restraints from Lucifer's raw bloodied wrists and tried to revive him, but the devil was still unresponsive. His body was completely limp and he was barely breathing.

The Goddess became concerned, she had meant to have her way with him, which is what she suspected he might have begrudgingly, wanted all along, but she certainly hadn't intended to kill him. Cradling his head in her arms, caressing his pale, fine featured face; he seemed so innocent. Asherah, softening her gaze, felt some long repressed feelings welling up inside her. Familiar emotions from back when she had been a caring and loving stepmother to the angels. Her heart clenched as she could feel the life fading from him; he was dying in her arms.

He had been over-dosed with venom from too many snake bites. Instead of temporarily paralyzing him, the amount of venom in his system had become lethal. Lucifer's body began to convulse, his breath constricted into short hard gasps: death was immanent, he was in its final throes.

In a moment of compassion, Asherah couldn't watch him die. She placed her hands, palm side down a few inches over his heart. Taking in a long and deep breath, she slowly let it escape while she closed her eyes. A warm glow emanated from her hands and melted into Lucifer's chest. The glow persisted for a few minutes until the angel sat straight up, while gulping for air. Searching her face for an answer, he asked, "what just happened?"

Looking a bit disquieted, the goddess answered, "Nothing happened, you just needed a little help coming out of the venom induced paralysis."

Still feeling quite weak and confused, Lucifer's head was spinning; images of Asherah's assault were coming back to him, along with the images of heaven that his Father had planted in his mind. He could make no sense out of any of it.

Lucifer thought he'd felt the touch of his Father, but why had He allowed Asherah to violate him. Had Asherah actually healed him from his bad reaction to the venomous paralysis that nearly killed him? Lucifer wondered, what was real and what was imagined?

A rush of adrenaline coursing through his resuscitated body roused Lucifer to push himself off of the alter. Still feeling a bit unsteady on his feet, he steadies himself with one hand on the altar before attempting to lurch away. Luckily, a column was close enough to cling to. His intention was to get as far away as possible from Asherah and the temple.

Lucifer, "are you alright?" the goddess inquired with genuine concern.

Holding on to the column for support, he seemed to be trying to steady himself, "I'm fine, I just have to get out of this death trap and away from you…"

Satisfied that he would be OK, Asherah poses the question: "well, son, do you want to be my consort in this cult or not?"

"Do I really have a choice?" He says despondently.

"Probably not," the goddess counters. She wasn't sorry that she'd brought the arrogant angel to his knees and that she'd nearly killed him in the process, as long as he wasn't dead; he was just collateral damage...

"I will agree to your offer only under these conditions: that you never touch me again—never. And, you can have all of the worship… Are my terms acceptable…Mother?"

The goddess merely smiled back at the broken and bruised divine being before her: "so be it," she said triumphantly, and The Cult of the Great Whore of Babylon began its' five hundred year run.

Grasping his ripped tunic with both hands, Lucifer staggers out of the temple where he unfurls his wings and makes his escape back to hell.

God was not amused with what had gone on in the temple of Babylon that day. His son had been violated on that sacrificial altar in the name of vengeance, in the war between him and his former bride. He had watched from above as his plan for his son and former wife went completely haywire—it was not supposed to have happened like it had. Nevertheless, parts of the plan were still salvaged and put into effect.

God had thought that Lucifer would have succumbed to Asherah's charms—who could resist them? After all, He should know, since he made her that way. But Lucifer avoided kissing Asherah, which did not allow for his enchantment of her to take place. Asherah, who had never been turned down by anyone before, flew into a rage and decided that she would take what she wanted by force and get back at her ex-husband at the same time. Lucifer's attempt to resist Asherah's temptation because he did not want to anger his father more than he had already; had not gone un-noticed.

Yahweh, virtually trembling with wrath, wanted nothing more than to strangle Asherah for what she had done to his son. He knew that he could not bring Himself to kill her, but she was driving him to a final solution—one way or another.

The Almighty sat back on His throne, replaying the incident in His mind over and over again. His son's desperate prayers and cries for help still ringing in his hears. He wished he could stop what he'd previously set into motion, but it was already too late for that. He would have to let it play out -at Lucifer's expense. Yahweh's great heart cracked with pain inside his chest; he fought the urge to comfort and hold his son, but it was not yet time for that.

Asherah had won this round, she'd succeeded in cutting her ex-husband to the quick by destroying his son. Now with the emergence of her cult, her status as a deity to be revered and worshiped had been returned to her—God be damned if He didn't like it!

Devil Bedeviled

The underworld was even darker that night than normal as the king of hell had silently retired to his bed. The fires of the chamber of torture and punishment had burned down to embers and no longer bellowed flames. Maze and the devil's demon minions had all been anxiously awaiting his return to begin to churn up the instruments of torture once again.

The demoness narrowed her eyes as she watched him stagger to his room. The devil's anguish was clearly palpable to all his subjects, even the demons recognized a deep hurt resonating from the depths of his black eyes.

Her face twisting in scorn, his second in command, wondered what foul deed had befallen her master while he had been at the temple that day. Maze had never seen him like this before, the devil she knew was always so confident, fearless and powerful; yet, he'd returned from his visit to earth visibly diminished—his great spirit seemed broken. But, by what—or by whom?

Later that night, Maze perched herself at the foot of his bed to guard her lord from whatever had happened to him that day. She studied her master as he laid splayed out on his bed, still garbed in his ripped tunic. She noticed snake bites all over his legs and chest; venom mixed with blood still oozed from them. Examining the bloody ligature marks on his wrists, the demon deduced that he'd been restrained. Even more troubling was the condition of his genitals, which were bruised and quite raw. One side of his face sported a split lip, bruised cheekbone and a very swollen over black eye. Dark bruises were forming at the bottom of his rib cage and on his back.

Thinking that perhaps he'd engaged in some rough sex that got out of hand, the demon mused, "hmm too bad I wasn't there to make a threesome…"

In a state between sleep and semi consciousness, Lucifer was restless and breathing in fits and starts. He kept whispering, "no, no please, no Asherah, please don't. No! Father, Why? Why did you let her do this to me? Please make her stop…oh please!"

Cocking her head while furrowing her brow, the demon could not understand the emotions Lucifer was going through. What she did know, however, was that something happened to him; something that had hurt him to his very core.

Silently, the demon crawled into bed beside her master; he rolled over instinctively to her and curled his long limbs around her body, making himself seem small. With his head next to hers, she studied his face: it was pained, long black lashes clamped his eyes shut, his mouth formed words that didn't materialize and his body trembled violently.

Maze had found that even the lightest graze of her fingertips on his bloodied and bruised body, made him flinch and turn away. Lucifer, who was now decidedly cold to the touch, caused the demon concern since heat normally emanated from him. Blankets were never necessary in hell, it was always so hot; Lucifer and Maze usually reveled in the heat. Maze covered her lord with a black robe that reeked of the odor of brimstone to quell the shivering. The dormant devil wrapped himself into the garment, breathing in deeply the scent of hell from his robe, calm settled over him as he fell into a fitful slumber. Now under the protective gaze of the demon sentinel, the devil finally seemed to have found peace for the rest of the night.

The next day, Lucifer seemed unaffected; whatever happened to him the day before, he had managed to push it so far down into himself that he thought he'd pushed it away. It was business as usual in hell, torture and punishment was a never ending job.

Lucifer threw himself into his devilish purpose.


	4. Prequel Chapter 4: Cry For The Children

A/N The Cult of the Great Whore of Babylon rises to horrific heights. Asherah's "big bad" comes into full swing as she engages in ritualistic prostitution and child sacrifice. God is really pissed at his former wife now-but what and when will he do something about it. Baal aka Lucifer gets all of the blame/credit for the worst the cult has to offer. Lucifer tells Asherah to shove it. During some lighter moments, Lucifer and Gabriel engage in angel play and revisit how the universe was created. Any of your thoughts or questions would be greatly appreciated... I think there are only 2 more chapters left in the prequel until we start off in present day. Hope you enjoy this...

Prequel

Chapter 4: Cry for the children…

The Cult of The Great Whore of Babylon, with its' ritualized prostitution, and proclivity for wanton sexual behavior, was just the beginning of Asherah's new found warped perception of her deity. The goddess had succeeded in perverting one of her husband's greatest gifts to humanity—sexuality. The followers of her cult were routinely manipulated through ritualistic sex in order to secure her favors. This was in stark contrast to her former husband, who in addition to absolute loyalty, made ethical and moral demands of his worshipers. He as the Almighty—was to be obeyed, not manipulated.

The goddess had turned to the unthinkable in her quest to regain the power she once carried. Asherah had resorted to accepting human sacrifices to gain her favors. And as if that wasn't chilling enough, the former goddess of motherhood had come to accept children as sacrificial offerings: infants and young children in particular. For the price of a first born son or daughter offered up in sacrifice to the goddess, she would bestow such favors as improving crop yields, ending drought or pestilence and she would bring good fortune and prosperity to her devoted followers.

The temple at Babylon had very quickly become the profane center of ancient ritual horrors; the sacrifice of live children, burned to death on the stone altar. All in the name of the deities of the cult: Ba'al and his consort Asherah.

Never mind that Lucifer had not ever participated in any of the cult's rituals—sexual or sacrificial. He hadn't returned to the temple since Asherah had last violated him there. He wanted nothing more than to stay away from his former stepmother—forever—if possible. On that terrible day, when Lucifer had agreed to leave the worship aspect of the cult to Asherah, he had never expected her to resort to killing children.

Keeping a close watch over Asherah's cult, God's anger burned hotter with every new day; He had reached an ultimate decision regarding the goddess…

God in his infinite wisdom and patience had been pushed to the limit by his former wife. Her malevolence was totally out of hand and could no longer be tolerated. The sacrifice of innocent children was the abomination that finally put the Almighty over the edge. Yet, he would wait until the time was right to act.

Despite God's omniscience, the importance of timing in His plan was everything. He had foreseen Asherah's course to self-destruction and he knew exactly when it would all come to pass. Until that time however, God would have to remain on the sidelines until the cult played itself out. After all, what was a few hundred years, but the blink of an eye—a mere drop in the bucket of eternity.

The archangel Gabriel sitting at the foot of God's throne had watched alongside of his Father and witnessed actual child sacrifices at the temple: he was appalled at how the former goddess of motherhood could have turned into a murderer of children, all in the name of being worshiped.

"Father, we have to tell him what's really going on up there in his name."

"But there's nothing he can do to prevent it my son."

"Yes, Father, but still, he needs to know."

"I cannot interfere with this just yet, but soon enough, I will act very swiftly and permanently. In the meantime, Gabriel, why don't you pay your wayward brother a visit. Let's just call it an unsanctioned message from you instead of from me."

"Thanks, Father! I've been concerned about Lucifer as of late, he doesn't seem to be himself since he met with Asherah and agreed to be her consort in that terrible Babylonian cult."

Remembering the events of that day were still raw in God's mind, how could he forget his son pleading and crying for his help, while he stood by and watched Asherah defile him. Would he ever be able to make it up to him?

"Gabriel, go now, make haste, you are right, Lucifer does need to know what is happening in his name."

Down in hell, Lucifer and Maze, were spending the day creating new demons. On special days, Lucifer would gather the demons around and create more demons, large ones and small ones; from recycled body parts of the damned—along with a dash of brimstone.

The devil enjoyed creating demons, and today, he was in the midst of piecing together a small demon from a hand that had been frozen in the act of flipping off the bird. To the middle finger, he had added two tiny red beady eyes, a hole for a mouth and a floating wavy bottom at the wrist to get around. The little hand took on the appearance of a character out of a Hieronymus Bosch painting of hell. Finding his newest creation amusing, he was in the process of admiring his handiwork when he noticed the light descending down toward him.

Now what, he thought, letting his angel form's face screw into a scowl, I sure hope no more invitations to join cults are in the offing.

Gabriel lands on the soft ash lightly and gives Lucifer a bear hug.

"What did I do to deserve that?" The devil smirks

"Oh, nothing dear brother, I have missed you. Actually, I don't have a message from Father, I'm here on my own."

"Well then, it must be pretty important if you want to spend your valuable time down here with me."

"Yes, it is important, but you know how much I miss you dear brother, so don't be surprised when I make unsanctioned visits to you."

"Unsanctioned visits?" Feinting surprise while his eyebrows rose to the heavens, Lucifer snickers, "whatever is Father up to now? Allowing you to go rogue so you can come down here to talk to your brother, the devil."

Gabriel's golden hazel eyes crinkle when he chuckles, "Oh you know, he's always up to something—exactly what though; I have no idea."

"Good, good," the devil smiles brightly at his brother, "so what is so important that you need to come all the way down here to tell me?"

"Well, Luci, it's like this—I'm sorry this is not going to be good news, but since Father is not going to participate in this at present, I got his permission to tell you."

Turning serious, Lucifer narrows his suddenly darkened eyes and glares down at Gabriel, "permission to tell me what?" He snaps back.

Please Luci, "don't kill the messenger here", Gabriel squeezes out a nervous laugh

"Well that depends on exactly what the message is—doesn't it?" The devil teases, lightening the moment.

"Look, Luci, it's about the whole Asherah cult thing. I know you haven't actually participated in it, but it has really gotten out of hand—I fear Asherah is getting beyond control."

The mere thought of Asherah made Lucifer's temperature rise, beads of sweat form on his forehead, and the warm feeling of arousal radiates from his groin, "Hmmm, why am I not surprised." He muses.

"OK, I'm just going to come out and say it: Asherah is now accepting human sacrifices of small children for various favors. She's murdering babies and little children—and she's doing it under your name in the cult."

Lucifer's mouth falls agape upon hearing the news about Asherah. "She's gone stark raving mad. How does the goddess of motherhood, end up killing babies and young children?" Pulling his hair back on his head with both hands, the angel is disheartened by this extremely troubling information.

"Gabriel, dear little brother; you know, and Father knows, that I can't stop her: but I can tell her to take her infernal cult and shove it. I've not been up there once—not once. I am very sorry to hear about the children. Unfortunately, the only one who can stop her—is Father, and I don't know what he is waiting for. I suspect he's none too pleased about this whole cult thing."

Suddenly Lucifer is struck with a sense of dread at the prospect of having to see Asherah again, "Gabe, would you mind much if I asked you to accompany me when I sit down with Asherah to tell her I'm out—regardless of who gets the blame. I—um...I, don't trust the woman, and I don't want to face her alone so that she doesn't get the wrong idea."

"I would be happy to accompany you to speak with Asherah," the perky young angel enthuses, "why don't we drop in on her now?"

The two brothers share a laugh and fly up and out of hell on their way to speak to the goddess.

Hide and Seek

As soon as the angels are out of the dark of hell and are flying high above the earth, Gabriel turns to Lucifer with a twinkle in his eye; the grandest grin forms across his boyish face. Gleefully, the playful angel taunts his older brother: "catch me if you can" as he swoops up into sky.

It had been eons since the fallen angel had engaged in any sort of play with his brothers or anyone else—there's no playing in hell. Lucifer felt a bit hesitant at first, it had been such a long time since he'd really had a chance to stretch his wings and soar; he'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to feel the wind on his face and the beating of his wings through the air.

Fully unfurling his immense wings, as he hadn't in almost an eternity, the angel takes off after his brother.

Gabriel had disappeared from sight.

Oh, so he wants to play angel hide and seek does he? Lucifer laughs softly to himself, well, I know exactly where to find him—Ha!

Soaring up through the sky, where the velvety blue black carpet of the universe houses the planets and all of the stars, Lucifer stealthily slips behind the moon and noiselessly flies right up behind Gabriel who's hiding there.

Lucifer lets out a roaring "gotcha!" which startles the younger angel. He'd been found—but how?

Both angels were laughing so hard that they were out of breath. Breaking from the mirth, Gabriel asks, "Luci, how did you know where to find me in all of the universe?"

"That was simple little brother, your planet is the moon; am I not right?"

"How did you figure that out?" Gabriel wonders out loud.

"Trying to sound serious," Lucifer snorts, "that's what big brothers do! Besides, have you forgotten who hung the sun and the moon and all of the planets in the universe?"

"Oh yes, brother, that was you; wasn't it?" the younger angel grinned. "How did you do it?"

With a beaming smile across his face, Lucifer recalls that wondrous day, when he was all alone with his Father…

"Floating in the utter and complete blackness of the cosmos, we ordered the planets while playing a game of celestial catch. As Father created each planet, he would throw it out to me and I would then hang it in the universe. After we finished with the planets; He created the stars. With a wave of his hand, they streamed out from his fingers; spreading out like twinkling dust—and from them, I arranged the constellations."

Was that before he made heaven, Luci?

Still lost in the reverie of the fond memory of when he had been his Father's the first and only creation; he recalled it as being the only time he'd ever felt truly loved, he whispered, "yes, Gabe, it was at the beginning of all time."

Grabbing the older angel's hands, Gabriel entices Lucifer into some angelic feats of acrobatic flying.

Higher and higher the angels soar in play, until Lucifer goes too far and hits the invisible border realm of heaven, where he is immediately repelled with a force so strong it knocks the wind out of him and hurls him back down to earth.

Gabriel swoops down below his falling brother and catches him just before he hits the ground.

Gulping for air, Lucifer twists away from his brother, "what was I thinking?" He blurts out. Holding his head in his hands, the fallen angel cries softly, shedding tears for an eternity away from home and the love of his Father and brothers that he would never, ever regain.

In that moment, Gabriel hugs his brother tightly. Wordlessly, the two angels hold on to each other for comfort. Gabriel cannot imagine what Lucifer's loss is like; he feels the suffering and dark sadness emanating from him during their tight embrace.

Lucifer tries to hold on to the warm feeling of love from his little brother for as long as he can: he's starved for love.

Breaking away from Gabriel, Lucifer collects himself, "It's OK little brother—really. What were we doing out here in the first place, with all of the acrobatics, I forgot…"

Becoming serious again, his little brother reminds him, "you were going to give Asherah a piece of your mind regarding her cult—and well, you know—the sacrificing of children."

"Oh that, well then, let's get it over with," he says with a sense of finality.

The angels come upon Asherah who is strolling the temple gardens. Gabriel calls out: "Asherah, we wish to have a word with you."

Lost in thought, Asherah appears a bit startled to have been interrupted by the two handsome angels. She is attired in a sheer dress, that reveals her ample cleavage to advantage. Over the dress, she wears a robe of golden cloth with precious jewels imbedded on the neckline, sleeves and bottom hem. Her raven black hair, which flowed down her back, was adorned with a crown of pearls and moonstones. Turning her full attention to the angels, her sea gray eyes fix upon Lucifer. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your visit—sons."

He hadn't expected to be so unnerved by her beauty and charm, but Lucifer's mouth had gone dry, like some silly school boy with a crush. He was at once enthralled by her, and terrified of her, and of course, she knew it.

Lightly touching the small of Lucifer's back in an innocent act of guiding him towards some benches in the garden, had released tiny electric shocks out over his skin. Letting out a small gasp, the angel's eyes widened in fear; he wondered what was going on.

Fretting that she might be trying to beguile him, or even put him under a spell, he tries to resist her wiles.

Sensing Lucifer's dismay, Asherah sits down on the bench and motions the two angels to join her. Lucifer shoves Gabriel down on the bench right in between him and Asherah to deflect some of the electric energy coming off of her that was filling him with lustful thoughts.

Looking at the younger angel, the goddess addresses him sweetly, "I don't suppose you are bringing me a message from your father—are you?"

"Um, no mother, I am here with Lucifer on my own."

"And does your Father know where you are?"

"He probably does since He does know all things," Gabriel smiles back.

"Does He now? I suppose He does. So, you've come to speak with me about the cult," she gets right to the point, holding Lucifer's eyes in her gaze. "You see, I know a lot too and I was expecting you both."

Finally finding his tongue, Lucifer breaks in flatly, "then you already know why we are here."

"Listen Asherah, I once told you that I did not wish to be worshiped and left the worship aspect of this cult up to you. You've since made your cult a perverse abomination beyond even my apprehension as the devil. I've had nothing to do with what goes on here, even if it is done in my name as your consort. I know there's nothing I can do to stop you. So I guess I'm here to tell you that I don't want to have anything to do with your perverse cult, or with you—ever."

"Tsk, tsk, such strong words, son. Not joining me in my cult is your loss, but if that's your wish, who am I to refuse you? Unfortunately, you will be the one who bears most of the blame in the bible for the perverseness of the cult. But since you are the devil, you are probably quite used to getting blamed for all that is evil in the world—right son?"

Asherah's words had stabbed at the devil as sure as a demon blade forged in hell. She was right, he was always being blamed for all of the vile in the world—so he must be inherently evil.

Dejected, the fallen angel hung his head in shame, he was no match for her cunning. Asherah made him feel weak—especially weak in the knees. Lucifer feared her power—he dreaded her.

Watching his older brother become paler and more withdrawn by the minute, Gabriel was not going to let Asherah continue to tear him down. He sensed there was something between the two that had deeply hurt his brother, but he also sensed that he was madly enthralled by the goddess as well.

Smiling a bit nervously, Gabriel bows down on one knee before his mother to take her leave, "I believe that we are done here. Thank you mother for granting us an audience with you."

"You are both very welcome sons, seeming quite pleased with herself, the goddess bids them farewell and says: don't be strangers…"

For the first time ever, Gabriel senses the deep hurt and rejection from his older brother, he spies a glimpse of fragility; a crack, in his devil's bravado.

Gabriel follows Lucifer all the way back down to hell, because he wants to make sure that he is OK. As they both land in a small cloud of ash, Lucifer, looking completely worn out, cannot find it within himself to sass his little brother. He grabs him into a hug and thanks him for the game of hide and seek—even if he did overstep his boundaries it was still wondrous. And, in a disarming lapse into his own foibles, Lucifer thanks Gabriel for snatching him from the clutches of Asherah, "I am so glad you were there with me, for she might have cast a spell on me to keep me up there with her—forever!"

Gabriel takes his leave, unfurling his brilliant wings, he ascends back into heaven.

Lucifer heads straight to his bed chamber, where he flops down on his bed face first. On the brink of slumber, feelings of dread and anguish bubble up from deep within. His brief encounter with Asherah earlier in the day had confirmed his worst fears about giving her the free hand over the cult's worship practices. In the end, it would be him as Ba'al that would be blamed for defiling his own mother and for accepting the sacrifices of children. He imagined fervent followers presenting their children to the deities sitting on that horrific throne in the temple of Babylon—to Asherah and her consort, Ba'al.

As slumber slowly overtakes him, Lucifer foresees more harsh judgements being brought down upon himself in the bible, and that once again, Asherah was going to get away with it: he'd end up taking the entire blame.

Ruing the day, he'd met with Asherah at the temple of Babylon, he wishes that he had not shown up on that day when his Father had asked him to meet with her. The devil's eyelids, half closed, allow one more thought to cross his mind; I wonder why Father took it upon himself to arrange that meeting—why was he deliberately putting us in each other's path?

Finally overcome with exhaustion from his outing to earth and the skies beyond, the fallen angel fell asleep.

Maze, took up her position guarding her lord, she wondered what it was about earth that was always so exciting and yet so onerous to him. Having never been to earth, the demon couldn't understand why everyone thought it was so great.


	5. Prequel Chapter 5: Demon's Lamentation

A/N: Lucifer suffers a blow to his self esteem and to his carnality. Maze seeks the advice of an old friend regarding the devil's condition. Will she get her master to snap out of it?

Chapter 5: Demon's Lamentation

Ever since the day he had met with Asherah at the Temple of Babylon, Lucifer had not been the same. That day, something inside of him broke; his self-esteem had taken a blow. Feelings of worthlessness and degradation cast a shadow on his spirit. For the first time in all of his existence in heaven and hell—he felt fear. Caught in the center of tug of war between his parents—who just happened to be two gods—he was simply could not match their arsenal of powers.

Asherah had broken him, she'd taken from him that which he prided himself most on—his free will. Lucifer had never done anything that he hadn't wanted to. Except for on that day, when Asherah ripped everything away from him, forcing him into submission: even his own body had betrayed him. He had been completely powerless against her. Lucifer had tried to force those memories down deep inside of himself—to forget, but every night when he slept in his angelic form, they came out to haunt him.

Since his sleep was racked with nightmares, Lucifer began to avoid it altogether, he would not eat or sleep for months at a time. Not that he had to do either to survive, but his angelic form did require nourishment and sleep from time to time to remain robust. It seemed as if he were trying to kill off that part of him so that only the devil remained. Much to his dismay, his angelic form proved to be a lot more tenacious than he had thought.

He preferred working on over-drive in his devil form because it didn't allow him to feel deeply or to have emotions. Finding himself to be purposefully avoiding his original angelic form, he didn't want to feel the anguish and hurt that accompanied it, so he allowed it to deteriorate. He'd lost so much weight that his bones showed. Deep black circles formed around his eyes, his complexion was white and pasty and his hair was long and unkempt: he had become a vestige of the beautiful angel that he once was.

Since he now preferred to stay down in hell, he had not ventured back on earth since the last time he met with Asherah about the cult's offerings of child sacrifice. It had been 500 years since he had ventured out of hell.

While he worked and took care of the business of hell, he seemed quite normal; he even seemed to thrive. Meanwhile, he hadn't heard a thing from his "divine family" in hundreds of years, perhaps they had abandoned him for good.

To make matters worse, Lucifer avoided all sexual contact. He flinched when touched, and he turned down any kind of intimate advance. One of the most carnal creatures in existence, had been snuffed out: would he ever be able to rekindle that fire within that used to burn so brightly?

Maze continued to guard him steadfastly and to work by his side day after day, but most of all, she missed their sex together. She didn't care if he was in his devil form or not, Maze adored Lucifer in whatever form he morphed into. The demoness realized that whatever had happened on that day at the temple of Babylon between Lucifer and Asherah: it had changed her lord, and not for the better.

Patience not being her strongest suit, Maze wanted her master back—forthwith. The petite demon, Lucifer's right hand woman, was fiercely loyal to him. As the devil's ferocious protector, with the moves of a ninja, Maze's expert skill in the wielding of her demon daggers forged in hell was second to none.

Maze excelled at punishment and torture. Reveling in the pain and suffering of others; debauchery and mayhem thrilled her. But most of all, it was her diabolically insatiable appetite for sex that was legendary in all the realms of hell.

Maze needed advice about Lucifer's condition and she knew exactly who to consult on the matter—Asmodeus.

Demonology

One of the seven princes of hell, Asmodeus, fallen angel, demon of lust, sexuality, sensuality and vices of all kinds, was a confidant of Lucifer's and one of his staunchest supporters. Maze thought that surely, he would have some insight on the devil's plight.

Asmodeus was one of the most powerful and cunning members of Lucifer's alliance of devils. Tall, handsome and dangerous, the fallen angel used his good looks to his advantage. His classically featured face with delicate pale skin, supplely stretched over his high cheekbones and his long dark hair, gathered together at the back of his neck, was all that had been spared from the disfiguring injuries he'd received when he'd been cast out of heaven during the rebellion. Now, his distinguishing attributes where the most unearthly ones; piercing crimson eyes that gleamed with infernal power and a pair of small sharp horns that crowned his forehead.

Known as the devil on two sticks or the limping devil, Asmodeus had borne the brunt of his fall on his legs causing him to use two canes to help him walk. Beneath his fine robes of red and black, studded with black diamonds and rubies, the demon's body was covered in bloody wounds that he'd also sustained when he tumbled from the heavens. As a constant reminder of his fall, the wounds still continued to ooze blood daily.

One evening, while Lucifer is asleep, Maze brings Asmodeus into his bed chamber to observe the devil's odd behavior. Almost on cue, Lucifer begins to thrash around and starts to talk in his sleep, "no, no please, no Asherah, please don't. No! Father, Why? Why did you let her do this to me? Please make her stop…oh please!"

Letting out a drawn out sigh, Asmodeus quietly exits the room with Maze at his back.

"So, do you know why he is this way? Why he refuses even the slightest touch without flinching away," the truculent demon whispers loudly.

With his horned head cocked to one side, Asmodeus begins to gather his thoughts. "When did this start?"

Unable to hide her disgust, the demon spat out, "since the day he went back up to earth for a meeting with his stepmother, Asherah, at the temple of Babylon."

"Ah, I see," the demon answered, his eyes widening at the apprehension of what had happened to Lucifer. "This is beginning to make some sense."

"Little demon, Asherah is not just any goddess, she is the personification of sexuality and sensuality, no one is supposed to be able to resist her charms. And…it's common knowledge to most of us angels that she had a "thing" for our brother ever since she'd seen him for the first time."

"After Father divorced Asherah and cast her out of heaven, her fall all but devastated her. At one time, she had been the sweetest most nurturing person, but then she changed completely. All she wanted was to make Father pay for what he'd done to her. Unfortunately, it looks like Lucifer was caught in the crosshairs of their rancorous split."

"Mazikeen, has he ever talked to you about what happened to him?"

"If he had talked to me about it, why would I be asking you anything?" The impatient demon snapped back.

"Now, now little demon: patience…I need to learn more before I can put this all together."

"Tell me Mazikeen, what was he like when he returned from the meeting?"

Recalling that day, the demon continued, "He went straight to his room, his mood was noticeably subdued, all of us demons could feel that something had been done to him. I'd never seen such sadness in his eyes before. Upon his return, he hadn't engaged anyone, not even me."

"He seemed exhausted, he passed out as soon as he hit his bed. The first thing strange that I noticed was that the front of his tunic had been torn from the neck line all the way down exposing his body. His wrists were raw from being bound, he had red welts and bruises on his face and neck and his body was riddled with snake bites which were still oozing with venom. Even his genitals were raw and bruised. At first, I thought he'd engaged in some rough sex while on earth—I wouldn't have put that past him.

"Enough little demon, I know what happened to your master and why he is acting the way that he has."

Shaking his head, Asmodeus says softly," I believe that Lucifer was raped by Asherah."

Furious, Maze blurts out, "but how can that be possible? Lucifer is so strong and fearless. He does nothing that he doesn't want to, he cannot be forced against his free will."

"I'm so sorry little demon, but that's exactly what I'm saying: it is possible, and if my experience counts; he did suffer at her hands. Asherah is the most powerful goddess, second only to Father in her powers. Lucifer didn't have a chance against her. If she wanted to have her way with him, she would—consensually—or not. One of her spirit animals is the serpent, which she can morph into and use as a tool to subdue her prey. The venom from the serpent bites causes temporary paralysis. The victim is still awake, but cannot move until the venom wares off. It's a remarkably efficient way to render her victims into submission.

Suffering through an assault as violent as what he endured, along with the hurt, humiliation and anguish that he continues to feel, it is no wonder that he revisits it in his dreams at night. Even a being as proud and as strong as Lucifer might have difficulty coming back to the way he was before. He seems to have been severely damaged by this incident."

Does he mention Father in any of these dreams?

Yes, he calls out to him: "Father, please don't let her do this to me…please stop her! Haven't you punished me enough, do I deserve this?"

The handsome features of the demon slump into a sad expression, erasing the crinkly little wrinkles that form laugh lines around his crimson eyes, while his mouth twists into a frown, "so the old man didn't lift a finger…that's beyond the pale."

"Asmodeus, when do you think he will snap out of it?" the demon asks hopefully.

"I'm sorry Mazikeen, it could be next week, next month, next year or, quite possibly—never."

Maze getting all fired up hisses: I should go up there and kill that bitch with my demon daggers from hell for what she's done to my lord.

Yes, my poor little demon, but your show of loyalty would be for nothing, because the goddess would squash you like a small bug before you would be able to get anywhere near her.

"When you speak of the goddess, Asmodeus, you seem to speak from a place of experience," the little demon purrs, "tell me, what was having sex with her like?"

A distant wistful look spreads over his face, his piercing red eyes turn light sky blue and his expression softens. "She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever had…and as you can imagine, I've had many," he smiles. "She was enchanting and electrifying; sex with her was earth-shattering—and it was utterly terrifying. She was so much more powerful than I, that oftentimes, I felt like I was hanging on for dear life. As exciting as that was for me, I imagine that I wasn't a potent enough partner for her. In the end, we parted ways amicably, but it could have easily gone quite bad for me because she had such a temper that she might kill you and not even notice. One thing for sure, no one, and I mean no one, has ever turned her down, so if that is what Lucifer did, he's lucky he got out of it alive."

"You—dirty old devil, I just knew you had mixed it up with her!" Maze cackled, "what I don't understand is, if she wanted to seduce Lucifer, why he didn't go for it. After all, from what I've been able to gather about her—she's virtually irresistible."

"I too am surprised that Lucifer would become so carnally challenged that he chose to resist her. It's just not like him. The only thing I can think of, that would cause him to avoid the temptation, is that Asherah was Father's wife and Lucifer may not have wanted to piss the old man off more than he'd already had."

"We used to laugh at Lucifer because we knew that "Mom" had a thing for him. But it all made perfect sense because Luci is virtually a chip off of the old man's block—he looks just like him—and I mean, an exact replica of him."

"Snickering at the very thought that Lucifer was a carbon copy of the angry old man in the sky with a beard, Maze could barely contain herself. She would surely save that little piece of information for the appropriate time—when she could launch it on her unsuspecting master."

"Getting back to your master, little demon, you are doing all that you can for him. But please be patient with him, I know that is not in your nature, but trying to push him or force him into anything will most likely result in permanent damage. Be gentle with him, no matter how trying that will be for you, and I know it will."

"Then all I can do is what I have been doing: watching over him and protecting him. The next time he goes up to earth, I will make sure I come with him to have his back."

Smiling down at the little demon, Asmodeus regards her fondly, "Lucifer did well when he created you Mazikeen, I can see why he prizes you so much."

"He p-p-prizes… me?" the demon's jaw drops in amazement.

"Oh yes, he may be the king of hell, but most of us regard you as his demon queen. You are always at his side, always at the ready. He's really quite lucky to have you. The two of you have a special bond: a hellish one!" He chuckles.

Hearing Lucifer stirring in the other room, Asmodeus takes his leave.

Maze grabs his arm, "tell no one of this—absolutely no one. Do you swear?"

"Yes, little demon, I swear, but I really must go now before he sees me here…"

"Thank you, Asmodeus, you dirty old devil," she laughs.

"I'll take that as a compliment coming from you, Mazikeen. Glad I could be of service…" the demon turns and limps away, taping his canes on the stone floors as he disappears from sight.

Maze assumes her perch at the foot of Lucifer's bed, just like she does every night.

Lucifer awakes with a start, looking sweetly sleepy, he yawns, "don't you ever get tired of watching over me?" Staring at her master intently, her eyes piercing into his, she tosses her hair back and purrs: "Never!"


	6. Prequel Chapter 6: Intervention

A/N: The goddess and her cult fall into irrelevancy. It is time for God to execute his plan regarding her fate. Asherah is driven to the gates of hell by all of her celestial children, where Lucifer awaits her arrival. Commanded by his Father to lock her away forever in hell; Lucifer obeys, but he knows that if ever she were to escape—the consequences would be dire and most likely deadly—to him.

Prequel Chapter 6: Intervention

It had taken 500 years for the Cult of the Great Whore of Babylon to run its course, but finally, the goddess and the cult had become irrelevant. All that had gone on in the ancient temple would now haunt the coming ages. The blood-stained altar, site of horrific acts, symbol of the violence committed upon it in the name of worship, still stood in a place of prominence. If one listened carefully, the cries and screams of the victims reduced to ghostly whispers, could still be heard exhaling from the cracks and crevices of the temple walls; where rumors of the human and child sacrifices that had taken place there still abounded.

Asherah was on the brink of obscurity. The moment for God to execute his plan for the goddess had arrived.

The goddess would have to be dealt with accordingly. She was still eternal and more than able to wield her super powers. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was apparent that she was not going to go gently into the night.

Lucifer had not returned to earth since the day he and Gabriel had played in the universe and since he last saw Asherah. His father hadn't sent his brother down with any messages during all of that time, and Gabriel had not returned of his own accord.

Had his beloved little brother turned his back on Lucifer too?

On that last day he'd spent on earth, such a long time ago, playing in the sky with Gabriel, Lucifer had been repulsed by the heavenly barrier and sent hurtling back down to the ground; like his original fall all over again. The message was clear: he would never be able to get back even the smallest semblance of what he'd lost. Even the briefest attempt to pry him from his misery was too much for him to bare, for he would invariably fail and fall even lower; farther away from his family and even farther from his Father.

Asherah had left her mark on him. He had never stopped feeling hurt and ashamed about what she'd done to him; he still felt guilty about what he'd represented in that perverse cult of hers. Yet even now, there was something about her that he found himself sometimes craving. The flashes of heaven he'd thought he seen so long ago were now but fuzzy recollections—he wondered if he really had been back in heaven, or if it had all been a distant dream.

Deciding that coming up to earth was too hurtful for him, Lucifer had chosen to stay in the comfort of his own hell where he didn't have to worry about what he'd lost. Consumed with his duties as the devil, Lucifer lost the remnants of what he once was and became what he was to be. He could live with that—at least for now.

The business of hell was humming like a well-oiled torture chamber, damned souls were being processed at lightning speed, thanks to the army of skilled demons that Lucifer had created and trained so well. The demons were so good at what they did, that the devil began to reserve his special attention to only the most vile, wicked and sometimes most notorious entities to enter into the gates of hell.

Much to his demon protector's delight, Lucifer forewent sex with anyone else except Maze. After his assault, it had taken centuries for him to allow her to touch him again. He had shunned all of her advances for the longest time, until the demon was able to break down his barriers by proving to him her loyalty and fierce protection. Even the devil needed solace now and then.

During his daily roll call of the demons, Lucifer saw a dot forming at the top of hell. The dot started to grow larger and become brighter. Damn he thought, why can't they just leave me alone: what do they want now?

The light grew into the form of an angel and Gabriel alighted on the ash dusted ground.

The younger angel's hitherto exuberance was remarkably subdued. He appeared serious—even solemn and he found it hard to look Lucifer in the eye.

"Greetings brother", he says with a tight smile," I hope that you are well. I have a message from Father for you that is of the greatest importance."

Hmm, Lucifer thought, no hug, no affection—not even from Gabriel—he was crestfallen.

A dark look of sadness crossed the archangel's face as he took in the general condition of his older brother. Lucifer looked like a shadow of his former self. He was pale and gaunt, his eyes which had once been so full of life were now dull black and expressionless and his hair was long and stringy—he looked generally unkempt.

Gabriel wanted nothing more than to grab his brother and hug him so hard. He'd missed him terribly, but his Father had forbidden him any more unsanctioned visits until the business of Asherah was to be resolved. The young angel watched the years go by, feeling more and more remorseful about abandoning his brother. And now, his heart had sunk at the condition he'd found him in.

Trying to sound as formal as he could, Gabriel announces God's message. "In two days I will bring an intervention down upon Asherah. I have called upon all of my angel sons and any of Asherah's remaining celestial children to help bring their mother down to the gates of hell."

"Asherah will then be delivered to you, Lucifer. You will lock her up in the depths of hell where she will never be seen or heard from again."

"How and where you lock her away will be of your own choosing. Make it so that she can never escape the confines of hell for all eternity."

"Do not fail me son."

Looking visibly shaken, Lucifer sneers, "and is that all you ask of me…Father. No one has even sent so much as a peep my way for hundreds of years, and now you command me to do your dirty work. You can't bring yourself to kill your former bride, so you want me to take the brunt of her fury."

"Why don't you lock her away in hell yourself—you did a good enough job with me!" he screamed to the heavens.

Gabriel could no longer hold himself in, grabbing his older sibling; crushing him into a hug, he held on to him as if his life depended upon it. Lucifer who had reached his breaking point, fell limply into his brother's arms, like life had been sucked out of him. The hurt coming off of Lucifer was almost overwhelming to the young angel, who looking up into the heavens, shoots his Father an angry look. He whispers: "what have we done to him Father?"

After a few emotional minutes, angrily pulling away from his little brother, Lucifer looks up at the heavens and says: "I will do as you ask Father—with pleasure. Just know that the pleasure is not for you: it is for me. I will lock her away at the very bottom of hell for what she did to me all those years ago that has heretofore gone unpunished."

"Thank you brother," Gabriel says gently as he gives Lucifer a quick embrace. "I will now take my leave of you. Good luck"—he smiles and soars off towards the heavens.

Watching his bright light get dimmer and dimmer as it ascends out of hell, Lucifer's stomach clenches into a tight knot, he is afraid of Asherah, and he's not completely confident that he will be able to complete the task his Father has commanded of him.

God had set the stage for an epic divine family intervention to take place upon Asherah. But she would have none of it. On the day of the intervention, Asherah had fought fiercely. But despite her valiant effort, she was eventually over-powered by a host of her own celestial children and dragged down to the gates of hell—where the devil was waiting for her.

"Welcome mother," making a small bowing motion, Lucifer directed her to step over the threshold of the gates.

Looking back at the hundreds of angels and all of the former gods and goddesses of the divine pantheon that she'd begotten, crowding the horizon, she knew they'd pushed her down to the point of no return—there would be no escape. Turning to Lucifer, her sea gray eyes filled with sadness, Asherah took a last deep breath of the sweet air of earth, before tentatively accepting his invitation to enter through the gates of hell.

Looking at the man standing before her now, it was hard to imagine how heart-stoppingly magnificent he had been all those hundreds of years ago when she'd had her way with him. The same man standing before her now, was greatly diminished from the former devil she'd remembered. His black opaque eyes were unfathomable, and his skin had taken on the pallor of ash. He had an almost imperceptible smell about him, like the smoke from a snuffed out candle. Dressed in a less than regal looking long black robe that seemed too large for his slight body, his grand opalescent wings were the only thing about him that was the same as it had been before. Still the only light in all of the underworld, his wings lit up the ash covered entrance to hell in sharp contrast to the pervading darkness.

With a steely gaze, Lucifer eyed Asherah with caution. Taking her hand into his, he gently guides her farther in. 'This is too easy,' the devil thought, 'she's not going to do this without putting up some kind of last stand…'

Motionless, the devil and the goddess stood face to face: sizing each other up. Apparently she still had some fire power to subject him to. In a flash, Asherah's neutral gaze turned defiant. Like a snake ready to pounce, she looked deeply into his eyes and quickly slithered her way into his mind. In one powerful move, she had turned the tables on Lucifer with the words he feared the most, "What do you desire my son?"

Lucifer's eyes widened in surprise as he felt her compelling his innermost emotions. The goddess was laser-like in her proficiency for getting in and out of someone's mind with exactly what she was looking for. She took pleasure in taking it forcibly, by burning her way in, and ripping out what she wanted.

Surprisingly, her probe of Lucifer's desires turned up empty. His innermost spirt harbored no love, no happiness and no desires—only an overwhelming sense of ennui and bitterness regarding his existence. He believed that he was not deserving of love—or of anything that was noble and good.

Asherah had caught Lucifer off guard. Trying to collect himself, he was reeling, he felt as if someone had stuck a burning hot poker in his ear. Holding his head in his hands and grimacing in pain, he stammered, "you destroyed me once woman, but it won't happen again. Now, I must do as Father has asked me."

Lucifer's flaring blood red eyes pierced into hers. He clutched her close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. Drawing up all of the strength within him, he gritted his teeth and grabbed her; pulling her tightly to him, he enfolded her in his wings so that she could not break free of him.

Holding on for dear life, Lucifer and Asherah spun into a whirlwind that hurtled them down to the lowest part of the netherworld. There, at the bottom of a small crater, was an open hatch door to a cell. Lucifer opened his wings and pulled away from the spinning form of his mother. He then drilled her all the way down into the deepest and darkest of all hellholes and locked her up.

Lucifer stood over the cell, breathing in short shallow breaths; shudders coursed through his body. Hurtling down through the depths of hell with Asherah, had brought back the vivid memory of his own fall from heaven. Although his fall had taken place eons ago, the pain he'd suffered on the way down as his Father's love was ripped away from him, had not diminished. God had shattered his son's heart, leaving only painful emptiness in its wake.

Cast away from the light down into utter darkness, there would be no more music and no more beauty. His Father had condemned him to the most depraved existence: to torture and punish the damned. This former angel of the light, had fallen into a world where his elegant form would be forever covered in ash. For all eternity, he would be nauseated by the stench of burning flesh and smoking brimstone. Never again would he bask in the magnificence of heaven, or fly above the clouds, or hear the beautiful strains of his brother angels singing.

Standing over Asherah's cell, Lucifer looks upwards into the chaos of hell, shutting his eyes tight, he tries to drown out the echoing screams of the damned, and the overall deafening din of the place. "Forever is a very, long time." He sighs as he falls to his knees; inconsolable, he hangs his head down and weeps.

His parents had used him as a means to their end. He was a pawn in their feud over power, revenge and divinity. His father would never forgive him, yet he still commanded him to do His dirty work. His mother had debased him while using him as a ploy to punish her ex-husband. Lucifer's entire sense of family had been completely ruined, he might as well have been orphaned, it would have been easier to accept than being abandoned and alone.

Grim with intent, Lucifer fixed his tear filled eyes on his mother's cell. Slowly straightening himself up, brushing the ash off of his shoulders, he causes his hurt to retreat far down inside himself where he believes it is out of sight and out of mind. With a renewed sense of resolute calm; he rationalizes, "Asherah will receive her cosmic due: she will be written out of the Bible and be banished to hell forever—I will never have to lay eyes upon her ever again."

Trudging away from the cell which was now almost entirely erased under a blanket of swirling ash Lucifer threw away the keys and never looked back.

And then, as if a great weight had lifted itself from his spirit, Lucifer allowed a broad smile to light up his face. He felt relieved, felt fear and humiliation melting away from his insides. She would never be able to escape and to hurt him ever again. For the first time in hundreds of years he felt like he could let go of all that she'd put him through. Lucifer pushed it all down inside, like it never happened. Today he'd vanquished Asherah, physically and mentally—revenge had been bittersweet for him.


	7. Chapter 7: Mum

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N: Our story begins at the very last scene of the season one finale of Lucifer episode 13 Take Me Back to Hell. Lucifer returns to his penthouse after some of the worst few days of his existence on earth.

Emerging battered and bruised from their epic fight, the angelic brothers had completely wrecked Lucifer's home. He'd been pursued as a fugitive for murder by Chloe and the LAPD. While hunting down Malcolm, he was unexpectedly mortally wounded by the recently resurrected from hell, dirty cop: Malcom. Then, he died, went to hell and came back to life after coming upon his mother's empty cell.

Certain that he will be the object of Mum's legendary temper for having locked her away in hell for over 2500 years, Lucifer fears that she's coming to kill him and that he hasn't the powers to resist her. Amenadiel tries to convince him otherwise. Lucifer comes to regret burning his wings.

Chapter 7: Mum…

Mea Culpa

"I'll be the son you've always wanted me to be, go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do."

Yes, He was listening, and yes, He answered my prayer—eagerly—a bit too eagerly…

"His guilt over allowing Asherah to ravish me at the old temple in Babylon, had eaten away at the Old Man over the millennia. The day He'd turned His back on me. My prayers unanswered; He ignored my cries and pleas—I begged Him to make her stop. The comfort I received? —Silence.

"No mea culpa issued to assuage His wayward son. Of course not, He's God. He's never sorry.

"At The moment of my death, which He'd known for time immemorial, the opportunity presented itself for Father to answer my pathetic little prayer.

"Even in death; timing is everything.

"How convenient that my demise and consequent return to hell came about to coincide with Asherah's escape from a virtually impenetrable cell. There's something a little bit too neat about this package. I don't believe that Mum escaped on her own. No, there's more at play here: my gut tells me that she was sprung—by someone not of hell.

"I was going to examine the locks of her cell to see if they had been broken from the inside, or if someone had unlocked them from the outside. Were the chains I'd found already broken? Had they rusted out over time, or had they been cut—intentionally. If Father really wanted me to track her down, why didn't he give me some more time to investigate for clues before yanking me back to earth and to the world of the living once again.

"Hmm, look at me going all Sherlock here. Perhaps all of this sleuthing with the detective is bloody well starting to rub off on me."

The elevator door slides open onto the surreal scene of what was once his home and inner sanctum. Bloodied, exhausted and utterly terrified, Lucifer picks his way out onto the carpet of broken glass and through the maze of wrecked furniture, smashed windows, piles of shattered bottles and dripping booze.

Desperately in need of a drink, he gleans through a pile of broken bottles to find one that is still half full. Grabbing what's left of the bottle, he looks up at the ruins of what had been his own private bar. Once stocked with all of his very favorite, very rare and very expensive, collections of whiskies and scotches; the prized bottles nearly all smashed to smithereens—slowly seeped onto the floor. The elegantly lit back bar was in complete shambles. He hadn't meant to smash all of the bottles of his beloved booze by hurtling Amenadiel like a projectile directly at them. He should have aimed him at some other area, but his rage was such, that after they'd crashed through the glass windows together, he picked his brother up like a rag doll and threw him across the room—not caring where he landed.

Surveying the damage to the wall of windows, he could see that they were all broken out into piles of ragged shards of twinkling glass. Peering deeper into the dimly lit space, he spied Amenadiel sprawled out on the couch.

Grabbing what's left of the bottle, he pours the remaining contents into two glasses and heads over to the injured angel.

"Oh, sleeping on the job" Lucifer teases his brother, _"_ hmm, it seems you have made a complete recovery from that gaping hole Malcolm stabbed into you with one of Maze's demon daggers from hell."

Still groggy from the deep sleep from which he'd just emerged, Amenadiel's voice stammers into a croak, "Luci, we still have to find Malcolm."

"Malcolm, yes that's been dealt with, it's old news really; the bastard is dead and back in hell where he belongs."

Amenadiel, whose face has scrunched into a puzzled expression, is checking out his completely healed mortal stab wound from earlier in the day. "Have you seen Maze?"

"Perhaps your snoring has driven her away," the devil chides as he hands his brother a glass of unidentified amber liquor.

Laughing quietly, Amenadiel abruptly changes his demeanor when he gets a look at the huge bloodied bullet hole stain on his brother's shirt and on his blood stained suit jacket. Knitting his brow, the dark angel narrows his eyes into a concerned gaze zeroing on the bloody stain over Lucifer's gut.

Deflecting from the seriousness of the wound he'd literally died from yesterday, Lucifer looks down at his bloody clothes and sighs, "Yes, it is a tragedy, another one of my Armani suits sacrificed in the line of duty. I had no idea that this occupation would be so hard on my wardrobe."

Matter-of-factly, Lucifer announces, "I spoke to Dad…"

Wincing, Amenadiel stares at Lucifer in disbelief, "excuse me?"

"I offered him my services…in exchange for…well, that doesn't really matter…he accepted." He said nonchalantly, as he plopped his wiry body down on the chair across from his brother.

"He replied to you," the slightly envious angel asked sheepishly.

"Hmmm, well, not in words, but his message was clear."

"And what does Father want?"

"Someone's escaped from hell…must have seen a window of opportunity whilst you were incapacitated. I think he wants me to bring our jailbird back."

"That's it?" Amenadiel says smiling slyly. "Well it shouldn't be too hard to track down a single errant soul." Taking a swig of liquor from the glass.

A curt "Yeah" escapes his tight-lipped mouth; Lucifer downs his entire glass in a single gulp—his face fixed in an expression that is usually foreign to the devil.

Amenadiel's smile now wiped off of his face, looks at his brother with concern, "you're afraid."

Lucifer, staring blankly down at the floor, "damn right I am."

"Right, but you are never afraid—who could possibly scare you brother?"

Looking away off into the distance, eyes wide with fear, Lucifer whispers, "Now she's here and she'll be searching for me."

Amenadiel presses him, "Lucifer, what are you mumbling about? Tell me, who escaped hell?"

Too terrorized to move a muscle, Lucifer shifts his eyes in Amenadiel's direction— "Mum."

The word hung in the air between the two brothers. Their eyes locked in a mutual frozen expression of fear. The earlier levity and banter between the two had evaporated, all that remained now was a heavy sense of dread. It may have been several thousands of years ago since her title was last uttered, but there it was—like a slap in the face.

Amenadiel had been there on the day Asherah was forcefully dragged down to hell. He'd been part of the melee that had defeated his mother and he was ashamed to have taken part in it. It still distresses him even now to recall the event. His Father had left him no choice he hadn't simply asked; he had ordered him to the task.

With his eyes cast down to the broken glass carpeted floor, the angel still clearly smarting from the memory, whispers hoarsely, "Father ruined her. I know He had to do what He had to do, but she had never been anything but His loyal and loving wife. She was our mother for heaven's sake. What He did to her was flat out—cold. He should have handled it differently. But who am I to question His infinite wisdom."

Surprised that his angelic brother would dare to criticize their Father, Lucifer gave him a look-over. Taunting him with a smirk, "I hadn't taken you for a mama's boy."

Color rises into the dark angel's face, his cheeks flush red with anger, "Oh, I—am a mama's boy?" Amenadiel jeers back, "if there was anyone who was and still is a mama's boy, it would be you—brother."

Shoving a finger into the devil's shoulder for emphasis, Amenadiel continues to drive his point. "You are the one that took advantage of her. Have you no shame? You seduced your own mother, and as if committing incest wasn't enough; you made her your consort and co-deity in that asinine cult that you started."

Looking down at the angel's finger digging naggingly into his shoulder, Lucifer feels the heat of anger rising within him, "Stop touching me, you feathered twit," the devil warns…his eyes now flashing red.

Unfazed that the devil's piercing eyes are boring into him like flaming arrows, Amenadiel continues with his tirade, "what was it again…? Oh yeah, I remember, it had a catchy name: 'The Cult of the Great Whore of Babylon,' that was it. For 500 years the two of you played house at Father's displeasure. Maybe he was feeling guilty about how things had gone down with their divorce, but when you and mom became the poster children for divine beings behaving badly: that was the last straw!"

Hah! Lucifer had to laugh at that last taunt, "divine beings behaving badly…hmm, I rather like that one," he quipped, "Too bad there was no TV back in the days of the bible. It would have made one hell of a reality show!"

"Typical!" Amenadiel cuts him off, "there you go, turning everything into a joke. Did you find our mother's descent into madness—amusing? When her soul became malignant with all of that hate and lust for revenge that it consumed her…was that—funny?" Now Amenadiel was standing over Lucifer, glowering at him. He wanted nothing more than to knock the wind out his older brother's sails.

Springing up from his chair, Lucifer gets into Amenadiel's face and yells, "Oh, so I'm the one who's to blame for destroying our mother?" Forming a fist, he's about to boil over; all he wants is to whale on his arrogant angelic brother once again.

Now inches away from Lucifer's face, Amenadiel sneers, "no, but you sure as hell contributed to it."

"Yes, I did, and I had my reasons!" Lucifer's voice choked with emotion on that last word. He felt the floodgates of his long-buried anguish spilling out of old wounds, dredging up the shame he'd suffered through. Lucifer thought that he'd succeeded in successfully repressing what had really happened between him and his mother, unfortunately, he hadn't. Now he was struggling to keep the memory out—he did not want to remember.

Long considered the subject of speculation, only three beings knew the real truth about Lucifer's rape: him, his mother and his father. According to the bible, it had been him as Ba'al that had seduced his own mother. For thousands of years Lucifer had lived with the humiliation that he had been the one who had been the aggressor; the one who had initiated the depraved dalliance with Asherah, and He was the one who had been responsible for the glorification of human sacrifices, and the especially horrific, sacrifices of children. Yet, it was all a twisted lie: he was innocent. It was Asherah who had heartlessly used him in her plot of vengeance.

Letting out a drawn out sigh through his clenched jaw, Lucifer looks away from his brother and pulls his fist back. Feeling wounded now, like some wild animal, all he wants to do is to lash back by smashing his pompous brother's face in for rubbing his nose into something that he did not do. But for now, he decides to let it go. No matter, he thinks to himself, I'll tell him the whole story—someday.

Amenadiel winces in anticipation of the punch to his face, but when the blow is not issued, he is startled, "Huh?"

Lucifer had been seconds away from walloping him, but instead, he withdrew. Slumping back down into his chair, he lets out a long low sigh, allowing his anger to dissipate. Lucifer's eyes seem to lose focus as he turns inward he looks despondent.

"Luci?" Amenadiel calls letting his voice trail off. "What's wrong?" Lucifer doesn't answer, he seems preoccupied as he continues to stare out into the room blankly

The devil's sudden dejection troubles Amenadiel, so he attempts to defuse the tension between them by offering a pep talk of sorts. "Luci, we were able to subdue her once before and you had no trouble putting her in her place then. You'll see, we'll surely be able to do it again. It won't be as bad as you think."

Seemingly lost in another world, the devil exhales exasperatedly, "thanks for the words of encouragement little brother, but you don't know what you're talking about, since you weren't there—no one was."

Truce be damned! Exploding into anger, Amenadiel grabs a fistful of Lucifer's shirt collar, pulling him out of the chair and up to his face, "what are you saying?" he hisses, "are you accusing me of not having participated in bringing our mother down?"

"Tut-tut my obnoxious angelic brother," Lucifer chokes out, "before you get your wings twisted up into a snit, hear me out."

"Once mother had been 'delivered' to the gates of hell by hundreds of you, who had fought hard to bring her down; the entire free-for-all was placed in my lap. Little old me was left holding the bag to finish Father's dirty work."

Pushing his brother back down into the chair, the agitated angel sneers, "and your point is?"

After rubbing his neck where his brother had nearly strangled him through his shirt, Lucifer lights a fresh cigarette. Allowing the sweet tobacco fumes to fill his chest; he regains his composure, releasing the smoke in a long slow breath before continuing…

"A couple of days before the intervention, Gabriel had dropped by with a message from the Old Man. Mind you, I hadn't heard a single word from the 'family' for about 500 years, but when Dad needs something done, He has no qualms about coming calling at my door. So He commanded me; _you will lock her up in the depths of hell where she will never be seen or heard from again. Make it so she can never escape the confines of hell for all eternity—do not fail me, son."_

Naturally, I was pissed, and I sounded off to Him. I called Him a "coward" for not dealing with His wife. But in the end, I accepted His order. Just like you and all of the others—we don't want to piss off Dad—do we?"

Sucking in the last puff from the cigarette, Lucifer lights another in quick succession; drawing some comfort from the nicotine filling his lungs. Still staring blankly out into the room, he looked pained at having to retrace the details of Asherah's imprisonment.

Fine wisps of cigarette smoke floated from his nostrils, as the devil continued on, "Amenadiel, that day will forever be etched into me. For just like you, I had mixed feelings about fulfilling Father's orders and just like you, I knew I had no choice but to do as I was told. But if you think my part in all of this was easy, then you are surely mistaken. Father left the most difficult part of his 'intervention' up to me to complete. Would you like to know what I had to do in order to finish the task?"

Waving the smoke away from his face, the warrior angel found that he was becoming curious about Lucifer's and his mother's relationship. There was obviously something between them that was not being expressed. Squinting his deep brown eyes, Amenadiel casts a suspicious glare at Lucifer, "go on…I'm listening." He scowls.

Nodding his head, Lucifer dips back into that disturbing day, "She wasn't going to go down without some kind of confrontation. She attacked me when I least suspected it; slithering her way into my mind like a snake, she tried to rip out my deepest darkest secrets. Unfortunately, there wasn't much there to entertain her, so she burned me as she retreated. It felt like someone had just stabbed into my ears with a flaming hot poker. But, I ignored the pain, and steeled myself to complete the task. I warned her, 'Now, I must do as Father has asked me.'

"Without giving her a single second to react, I grabbed her and held her tightly, wrapping my wings around us both; and then I leapt from the heights down into the abyss of hell. I wasn't flying brother, I was free-falling. I can't expect you to know what that's like since you've never fallen as I have, but I was terrified."

Listening intently to the devil's story, Amenadiel can't imagine what his life would be like without his wings, "You're right Luci, I've always had my wings to catch me…"

"I still had my wings too, but they were being used as restraints around mother. Imagine what it would be like to jump off of a mountainside—without your wings."

Closing his eyes for a minute, the devil takes in a ragged breath before continuing. Another cigarette animates his hands, tracing lines of smoke as he speaks.

"The wind stung my face while I hurtled down to the pit. It was like I was falling from heaven all over again. But this time, I had a passenger with me, she was captive—enfolded in my wings. I clutched her so very tightly, but I could still feel her power fighting me every step of the way. It took every ounce of my being to hold on for dear life and thwart her attempts to break free of me."

"I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer."

"Her screams pierced my ears, and her crying and trembling ate at my heart. She clawed deep bloody scratches into me in sheer terror—as we fell down, spinning in the whirlwind."

"Even though the fall had lasted only for seconds it seemed like an eternity and it had sucked my life's energy out of me. By the time we reached the bottom, I was spent."

"Stopping just short of the cell, I opened my wings and pushed her still spinning body from me; drilling her down the deepest and darkest of all hellholes.I locked up the cell and threw away the key."

"I walked away and never looked back."

Plainly in anguish, his opaque black eyes moist with tears held back, Lucifer swallows hard before countering sarcastically, "so as you can see, 'putting her in her place,' as you say it; wasn't easy—not easy at all."

Sighing, Amenadiel's expression turns troubled, Luci, are you saying you can't fight mother?

Looking down at the moonlight dancing on the glinting glass carpet, Lucifer's expression was pretty grave, "I'm saying that, uh… I don't know how I'm going to fight her—and win. You've never been on the receiving end of her powers. You have no idea of what she's capable of. Truth be told brother; I don't think I'm going to survive this conflict—especially without my wings.

Up In Smoke

A sickening feeling wells up in Lucifer's gut when he slowly realizes that if it hadn't been for the might of his wings, he would never have been able to subdue his mother long enough to lock her up: he would not have that advantage this time.

As usual, Lucifer had acted impulsively, he'd been cock sure that wasting his wings was the right thing to do. Especially since he was so certain that he was never going to return to hell or to heaven. To him, the wings were relics and a constant reminder of what he could never again attain, which was the divine love of his Father.

He thought it fitting that with a flick of a match, his only vestige of true divinity went up in smoke. He could still smell the stench of the burning wings and hear the strange moaning sound they made as they burned; it was as if they were being burned alive. He had come to think of his wings as inanimate objects, because they were no longer attached to his back. He had forgotten that the feathers from his wings were made up of singular entities of divinity and that they were very much a living breathing essential part of himself.

For the first time since he'd immolated his wings, Lucifer realizes the monumental enormity of what he'd done and the full weight of his reckless actions come crashing down on him. Staring out of the broken windows, catching a glimpse of the moon lowering in the sky, the fallen angel's black eyes rim with tears. Filled with remorse for what he'd done, Lucifer whispers almost inaudibly; "I never should have destroyed them…"

Sensing the seriousness of the moment, Amenadiel looking into Lucifer's teary eyes, with heartfelt concern, he asks,

"Destroyed what Luci?"

Sighing heavily, the devil whispers, "my wings, brother."

Not believing his ears, an astonished look comes over his brother's face, "You're actually admitting that?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for you!" Lucifer growls. Swallowing hard, he feels the heat from his eyes flashing again at Amenadiel, "You plotted and planned against me, you stole from me and you betrayed me—all under the guise of returning me back to hell. Brother you pushed me to my very last nerve!" Lucifer screams in a rage.

Not able to return his angry brother's glare, Amenadiel looks down in shame, "you no longer wanted them, I got that, but I would have brought them back to the heavens where they belong. if not on your back at least for safekeeping. I was shocked and saddened at how flippantly you would destroy such an icon of divinity. Luci, your wings were unique in all of Heaven. Father never made any ones like them ever again.

I know that they were a symbol of the divinity you'd lost and would never get back. But after I saw them rendered into a pile of ashes on the beach it made me sick. I know you think I'm an old stick in the mud—that I'm sentimental… And yes, I confess, I can be. I told you yesterday back on the roof, how sorry I was for what I had done to you for my own selfish reasons and I really did mean it when I promised to make it up to you."

"Pretty words bro," offers Lucifer flashing a smile, "if we can just keep from trying to kill each other first…"

They both share a good laugh at that…

Still feeling contrite about torching his wings, Lucifer stops laughing abruptly, "you know that without my wings, I will be even more limited in my powers against mother. That will be a disadvantage for us"

"Not really," Amenadiel reassures, "what I know is that a battle is not won through raw power alone; the elements of guile and cunning are at least as important to victory, and Luci: you have both in spades. And, don't forget we have an entire family who will be there to help out if we need them. Yeah, I'd say we've got some pretty big guns on our side too."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear little brother, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside…" Lucifer chuckles.

"I hate to disappoint you, Amenadiel, but I have serious doubts that I'll be able to bring mum back to hell. It's not a matter of show of strength. Asherah wields her goddess powers which are second only to Father's. I can't compete with that. I already know, first hand, that she is the mistress of mind games and that she likes to play dirty. But what really has me scared shitless, is her atrociously deadly—temper."

The cumulative effects of the evening have hit Lucifer like a ton of bricks, suddenly he's reached his limit—he's has had enough. Standing up, he lets out a loud yawn and stretches his tall frame toward the ceiling. The scars on his back are beginning to hurt, as they often do, ever since Maze had cut off his wings all those years ago.

Yawning again and shaking his head to stay awake, Lucifer has reached the final straw of the night—he's done. "Since we seem to have finished our kumbaya moment for the evening, perhaps we can continue this conversation later, or tomorrow. I have a splitting headache, and right now, I really need a drink!" Pouring himself a double shot, Lucifer downs it in one long gulp.

Smog filtered daylight was already sticking to the penthouse windows, early morning had come to L.A. and the brothers had not hatched out a plan to return their mother to hell.

Amenadiel was antsy to find Maze and Lucifer felt like his head was about to explode. They both needed some space, so they parted ways.

Amenadiel disappeared into the elevator, and Lucifer finally gets out of the bloodied clothes he's been wearing since the day before, when he'd been shot by Malcolm.

Yesterday, I Died…

Standing beneath the jets of steamy water in the shower, Lucifer washes the dried blood off of his skin. "Well, that great bloody hole Malcom shot through me has completely disappeared, like nothing ever happened.

"That's a relief, so why am I still so disturbed by it all—it's over and done with. I'm back to my good old immortal self. I suppose the event of my death will fade from me in time, but right now, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that I won't soon forget.

The heat of the steam in the shower made the pain in his wing scars go away, and he'd cleaned up his bloodied self quite nicely. Lucifer feels like his chipper old self again.

"What a difference a good long shower makes! I'm feeling quite revived. Let's see which suit I'm going to sacrifice in the line of duty today."

Lucifer quickly dons a black suit and a plum shirt; fidgeting with his cuff links, he straightens out his sleeves and slips into his suit jacket. A confidant smile brightens his face as he catches a glimpse of his handsome likeness in the mirror.

"Let's have a bit of liquid courage before I go, I think I'm going to need it today."

Pouring himself a stiff glassful, the big gulp he takes goes down the wrong pipe, causing him to suffer a coughing and choking fit that turns his face beet red. A look of consternation wipes across his even features; as the tendrils of fear begin to spread in his mind.

"Maybe Asherah's already been here and has spiked some of these bottles with poison of some kind. I…I'm not feeling right. Perhaps she's cast a spell upon me. On second thought…maybe she hasn't.

"OK, deep breaths…

"This is ridiculous—I must pull myself together here. She could be anywhere right now; watching me at this very moment.

Or, she's on a well-deserved vacation taking in the sights, perhaps—Disneyland?"

Author's comments: Whew! That was a long chapter that bridged the prequel to the main story. I have been toying with the idea of separating out the prequel as a stand-alone to be read if anyone wants to get the full scope of all the background to this story. (any opinions about whether I should or shouldn't would be greatly appreciated) I probably won't separate it until the whole story is finished though.

In the next couple of chapters, Lucifer will receive a very special gift from his Father and some serious ass whipping from his mother the goddess. A certain L.A. concierge doctor treats the devil himself, and an angel comes to Lucifer's rescue.

I began writing this story with this chapter back in May when I was in the throes of Monday night Lucifer withdrawal syndrome. If I couldn't get any more fixes until September, I would just have to create my own. Never having written anything before, I just started writing and researching. The story evolved.

I've already written the tale out to its end so that I won't be influenced with how the TV show writers decide to treat the whole "Mum" aspect. That being said, I'm anxiously awaiting tonight's Season 2 premier. I'm sure you are too.

Additional Notes: 9/26/2016 I've substantially edited and rewrote large sections of this chapter, so I'm going to delete the one that's currently up and replace it with this one. This is my first story and I'm finding that the chapters I wrote back in May and June need substantial editing. The story is unchanged though. Since this was the first chapter I wrote back then, I decided to yank it and rewrite it. All of the subsequent chapters will be rewritten before I post them. I'm learning… let me know what you think of this re-written chapter—your thoughts and comments would be greatly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8: Even The Devil Gets Weary

A/N: Mum still hasn't made her entrance—Lucifer gets paranoid while waiting. He confesses to Chloe about the circumstances of his death and his deal with Dad. His frustration flares as he tries to convince her that he really is the devil. She still isn't buying it—is he beginning to wear her down?

Lucifer becomes ill and only gets worse as the day continues on. This chapter is pretty light hearted—fun with the devil—at his expense. The next few will be on the heavy angst side. Thank you for following the story—I'd love some feedback if you should feel so inclined…

Chapter 8: Even The Devil Can Get Weary

Confession

Awaiting this moment for over twenty-five hundred years, Asherah has obsessed over it, pondered it, ruminated over it, wrestled with it, stewed on it, analyzed it, fixated on it, reflected on it and seethed over it —now, she's ready to savor it. The goddess is in no hurry to show up. Besides, she finds Lucifer's terrified anticipation of her imminent arrival—absolutely delicious.

Lucifer leans against the entranceway to Lux, cigarette in hand. A light breeze pushes the drifting smoke away out toward the street while the already burgeoning L.A. traffic hums by. He finds an early morning smoke most enjoyable, especially when he is able to warm himself in the sun—but not today. He feels out of sorts, his hands tremble, the scars on his back ache more than normal, and he's feeling a bit of a chill coming on.

Fretting like a man awaiting to be hung—his fate sealed, the devil takes an extended drag on his cigarette—like it was his last. Shutting his eyes, he exhales the smoke in a long slow stream, quelling the butterflies in his stomach.

Come on, pull yourself together, the detective will be here any minute. I can't let her see me all out of sorts like this… A good juicy case would be just the thing to get my mind off of Mum…

Detective Chloe Decker pulls up to find her partner leaning against the club door entrance, smoking a cigarette—just like any other day. Snuffing out the butt with his foot, Lucifer strolls over to the car.

Narrowed green eyes fix on the impeccably dressed, long, lean figure sauntering over to the passenger side. Chloe peers at him over the steering wheel, following his smoothly confident gait. Humph, how does he come back from being shot in the gut, bleeding out and dying—and still look that great? God, I'm pissed at him! Ugh, sometimes his Luciferness drives me nuts.

"flashing that wickedly charming smile of his, as he plunks himself into the car, Lucifer greets Chloe with a bright, "good morning detective."

Cranky doesn't begin to describe Chloe's mood this morning, and it was only seven thirty.

Releasing an exasperated huff, she keeps her eyes focused straight ahead. A short "hi," would have to suffice as a greeting. Stepping hard on the gas, she abruptly hangs a u-turn in front of Lux, jerking Lucifer around in the passenger seat in the process…A small smirk forms on her tired face.

"Detective!" He calls out as he tries not to fall out of the door. "I'd better fasten my seatbelt, looks like it's going to be a rough ride to the station"—he teases.

Chloe does not laugh back—she is not in the mood. She looks totally exhausted. Dressed in an old sweatshirt over leggings, she'd barely slapped mascara on her eyes, or bothered with lipstick, her hair scrunched into a messy pony tail.

Sensing that she was still out of sorts from yesterday's events, Lucifer, leans over towards her, placing his hand on her arm, he stares at her intently, giving her an up and down once over, he declares, without taking his eyes off her; "my, my but don't you look absolutely charming this morning," with that stupid sexy grin of his.

This time, she laughs, "you are such an ass. You know."

"Yes, yes, I am well aware that I am." Thankful that he's lightened the heavy mood. "It's good to hear you have a laugh."

Chloe lets out a long sigh, "Lucifer, I killed a man yesterday. I know Malcolm was a total scumbag, and that he had robbed, killed and kidnapped. I know that he would have killed us all in a heartbeat. I shot him in self-defense; he was coming for me, for my daughter—and for you. I had to end him. It was a justified shooting, but it doesn't mean I feel good about it."

"Well, detective, I am not sad that our former colleague will be burning in hell for all eternity. He finally got his due, if you ask me." Looking away from Chloe, Lucifer could feel his eyes flashing red with anger.

"Yeah, well, speaking of hell, get ready for your first experience with LAPD bureaucracy and be ready for Internal Affairs to put us through the wringer today. I for one am not looking forward to the experience."

"This is the second time A.I. will be interviewing me for having shot Malcolm."

"And it will be the last," Lucifer offers hopefully.

They both fall silent, retreating back into their thoughts.

Chloe, decides to break the silence. In an ever so matter-of-factly tone, she brings up the event of Lucifer's death, "so, did you recover from being shot dead yesterday?"

"Excuse me? Detective." Lucifer feigns shock, "I'm not dead, I'm right here," he smiles—his eyes mischievously twinkling.

Chloe sharpens her glare as she turns her head to look at him. "It's not funny Lucifer, I saw him shoot you. I saw you fall to the ground and die in a pool of your own blood."

Avoiding her darkening mien, his soft brown eyes downcast, Lucifer gave her a sheepish look, "I told you last night detective—I got better."

"Come on Lucifer, I saw you with my own eyes. You don't come back from being shot in the gut at point blank range."

"Detective, if I were to tell you the whole truth, you wouldn't believe me. Father knows, you haven't yet…"

"Humor me," she snaps back.

He shifts in the car seat to face her full on, "OK, but this is rather embarrassing…"

"I'm all ears—have at it…" she smiles sweetly at him.

"Right then…" drawing in a sharp breath, Lucifer confesses:

"When I realized that I was about to come to a sticky end, I prayed to my Father and I asked him for a favor. (he fails to tell her that his dying wish was for his Father to save and protect her) I told him I would be the son he always wanted me to be, go where he wanted me to go, and do what he wanted me to do. Then I died, and went back down to hell. I wasn't down there very long, before I saw what my Father had wanted me to see. My mother's cell was empty: she'd escaped from hell. The next thing I know, I'm back on the hanger floor filling my lungs with a big gulp of air. And, well, you know the rest."

To Lucifer's shock, Chloe doesn't immediately laugh or scoff at him.

"So let me see here, ah, your mother escaped from hell…and your Father brought you back—to do what?"

"Well, to bring her back to hell of course." He grins

"Oh, uh, huh…but Lucifer, you told me that you never had a mother…so does that mean that you lied to me?"

"No, I didn't lie to you, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either, he says softly. It's a very long story, that I'm afraid I can't tell you until you accept me for who I really am."

Huffing loudly to herself, Chloe looks her passenger straight in the eye, "Nice, try, but I still don't believe you are the devil."

"OK, here we go again," getting visibly agitated, Lucifer starts to lose his patience. "Detective, please pull the car over right now."

Chloe finds it hard to keep her eyes on the road, Lucifer clearly rattles her, "What? No. Are you kidding me?"

Lucifer feels his face flush as his temperature rises, eyes black with frustration, he snaps back, "No—I most certainly am not. Now please: just pull the car over." He growls.

Chloe makes a sharp turn onto a back alley and stops the car. "Ok, what's going on with you," she demands.

Glaring over at this maddeningly exasperating woman, Lucifer tries his best not to flash her with his burning red devil eyes. "I'll show you what's going on with me," He pulls his shirt up from his pants and nimbly unbuttons it.

Eyes wide with shock, she goggles on as her partner hastily peals his shirt open, "Lucifer!" Chloe yells over at him.

But before she can utter another word, he nearly pulls his shirt off so she can see his stomach. Exposing his smooth torso to Chloe, he wants her to look at him. He wants her to see that he has no physical scars from yesterday's events. He yearns for her to see him for who he really is.

Lucifer is so frustrated, that he can barely control himself, his eyes turning feral, glisten with emotion, his breath ragged, "there, look!" he shouts— "there's nothing there!" Grabbing her hand, he places it right over where he was shot dead the day before. "Do you feel anything detective?"

His elegant hand, feverish to the touch from his own innate heat, quivers as he clutches her petite hand under his.

Stunned by the feeling, he gasps, releasing her. He'd never held her hand before…

Chloe had never seen Lucifer be so raw—he was actually frightening.

Lucifer was still freaked-out by the fact that he'd died yesterday. An ancient immortal being such as himself, experienced being violently snuffed out at the hands of a deranged mortal. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had died on the floor of that hangar. It was an ordeal that he would never forget.

Realizing that he was scaring the detective, Lucifer softens his expression, letting out a long sigh, he releases his pent-up frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her.

"No Lucifer, I don't see anything and I don't feel anything," she blurts out. Chloe was looking up at him now, with gaping eyes and mouth, she gasps, "I, I can't do this today…" She starts to break down and cry, "I almost lost you yesterday. I know you aren't normal, but I'm just not ready to admit that you actually are the devil. There I said it, I'm just not ready."

Her tears pierce Lucifer to his core, pulling her into him, hugging her tightly, he whispers, "Chloe, I am so very, very sorry. I almost lost you yesterday as well." Pressing her head against his chest, he can't help but breathe in the scent of her hair—it smells of verbena and pomegranates. He imagines losing himself in her honey colored mane.

Chloe hears Lucifer's heart beating quickly, time seems to stop between the rising and falling of his chest as he breathes ever so calmly, his bare skin feels soft, welcoming and very, very warm. He smells delicious like the subtle earthy aroma of fallen pine needles and cologne. Hmm, I could get used to this, tearing herself away—before she can't.

Smiling again, she offers, "Ok, truce?"

"Truce," her partner agreed, as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Both remained quiet for the rest of the ride to the police station.

It Begins…

Once at the station, Lucifer and the Detective parted ways going into separate interview sessions. As Lucifer sat and waited outside of the room, he began to feel physically uncomfortable. He felt cold and his back started to ache again. Granted, he'd certainly gone through a tremendous amount of pain and exertion the day before. Getting shot, dying, going to hell, and coming back to earth might do that to a guy—even to him. Yet, this felt different, like he was actually getting sick.

Muttering under his breath, "What? The devil doesn't get sick." He dismisses the feeling.

As the interview droned on, Lucifer was getting colder and colder—uncomfortably colder. His interview had finished before that of the Detectives' so he parked himself in a chair across from her desk.

Today, he wasn't his usual devilishly loquacious self. He wasn't flirting with all of the other policewomen in the room, nor was he joking around. Sitting quietly, he seemed pensive.

Chilled to the bone, he'd started shivering.

What's happening to me? I despise being cold.

When Chloe came back to her desk after her interview, she shot a concerned look over at her partner, who now looked decidedly withered. His usual debonair demeanor had drained from him. Even more troubling, Lucifer seemed withdrawn. Chloe's gut feeling was that man sitting across from her was plainly not looking well at all. And, he was—silent; a sure sign that something serious was going on with him.

"Lucifer, are you OK?" she snapped.

Barely looking up, he answered tightly, "I'm fine".

"What? No you are not," Chloe said with concern. In the next instant, she was over by his side feeling his forehead, face and hands, which were all cold as ice.

Lucifer, now feeling as pathetic as he looked, still attempted a rather wicked smile, "Ooh detective, I didn't know you cared…would you like to feel where else I might be hot or cold?" He purred.

Shooting over one of her trademark "I'm going to smack you looks" Chloe felt conflicted. She didn't know whether to kiss him or kick him. Over the last few months, and especially after he had just saved Trixie and herself from certain death, she knew she was developing real feelings for this impossible man—devil—whatever he was.

A sick feeling began to manifest itself in Lucifer's stomach, something he'd never experienced before—nausea.

What is this unpleasant sensation coming over me? Why am I feeling so uncomfortably clammy right now?

Another round of the shivers racks Lucifer again, leaving him glassy-eyed and ghostly pale. Suddenly he leaps out of the chair, eyes widened with fear, his mouth filling with saliva; he clutches his hands to his stomach.

"Detective, what's happening to me? I have the most unpleasant taste in my mouth and I feel like my stomach is turning inside out. It's getting worse by the second!"

"Lucifer, it sounds like you are about to puke—here, let's get you to the bathroom. Cover your mouth!"

Guiding him to the men's room, the detective pushes him in and shuts the door.

Behind the bathroom door a muffled plaint is heard: "But, but, wait—detective, I don't know what to do, I've never 'puked' before. I don't understand what's happening to me—please help me."

"Is there anyone else in there?"

"No, it's just me—please hurry…"

Chloe pulls the desk Sargent into action as a temporary lookout to guard the bathroom door and follows Lucifer into the men's room.

Lucifer, standing up against the wall, looks green around the gills, his forehead feels hot and sweaty and he's shivering with the chills—again.

"What do I do now? Detective…"

"Unbelievable! Lucifer, do you expect me to buy that you've never puked in your whole life? Are you—shitting me?"

The effect is instantaneous. Lucifer is sincerely terrified about what is happening to him. He starts backing away from Chloe like he is going to make a run for it. But she grabs his arm and shoves him into a stall before he can escape.

"Lucifer, just try to relax and let whatever is going to come up from your stomach, and out of your mouth, and possibly through your nose too, go into the toilet."

Several minutes tick by—nothing happens.

"Ahh, Lucifer, are you OK in there?"

No response comes from the stall, just a mangled whimper.

Pulling the stall door open, Chloe finds Lucifer with his back to the wall hyperventilating.

"Stop that, you're going to make yourself pass out! Oh, you are such a big baby."

Turning to face her, Lucifer looks thoroughly petrified. His black eyes are wide as a child's. He feels like his guts are going to come up through his mouth. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tries to will away the awful feeling in his stomach. Sharp cramps come over him, causing him to double over in pain.

Starting to feel sorry for her peculiar partner, she attempts to allay his anxiety by speaking to him in a soft motherly voice, "Relax Lucifer, you'll be fine." Chloe rubs his back and shoulders to try and calm him.

His head drops down and his shoulders heave—Lucifer finally lets himself puke.

"That was the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced in this body—I hope that it never happens to me again."

Quietly giggling at his strangeness, she pushes him up against the sink, while she draws some cold water. "Here, drink this, it will make you feel better." Chloe gently wipes his flushed face with a wet paper towel.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, oddly, I do. Thank you detective," he smiled.

As Chloe turned to leave the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of Lucifer smiling at her in the mirror. Was he looking at her with tenderness and affection? Was she seeing things? She could not un-see that look—it melted her heart.

"Listen Lucifer, I think your diagnosis is pretty simple—you have come down with the flu. Let me take you home so you can get some rest."

"Yes, detective, I would agree. I'm suddenly feeling quite unwell. if I can sleep this off, I'll be fine. It's nothing really, I'm just quite spent at the moment. Even the devil gets weary from time to time."

Once seated in the car, Lucifer starts to shiver, his breathing labors; he feels like a wrung out rag—he is exhausted.

Chloe, observing that he was moving with difficulty as he approached the car, senses that Lucifer is getting sicker by the moment. She tries to make him more comfortable by wrapping him up to his neck with a blanket she'd pulled from the trunk. Trying to get him home as fast as she can, she hopes for the best.

After a short while, she could hear his breathing normalizing. Glancing over at him from behind the steering wheel, she was heartened to see that he'd calmed down. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have dozed off. He looked like a tuckered out little boy.

The ride back to Lux was uncharacteristically quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It seemed almost peaceful in the car between the two of them.

Wait? Uh maybe he's too quiet? As she turned to check him out, to her utter amazement, she caught her partner gazing over at her with his deep brown eyes; holding her in that same expression that she'd seen from him in the precinct's men's room. Where was the smirk? Or, the leering smile? Who is this guy? Where's my partner? Even if she wasn't sure of what to make of it, like it or not, she knew that she was starting to feel the same way about him.

Lucifer knew she'd caught him staring, but instead of looking away, he held her glance and allowed a big smile to stretch across his face.

Oh, my God! Chloe screamed inside, what is he doing to me? She was glad they were pulling up to his club because her heart was melting and so was her resistance.

Regaining her composure, she asked, "are you sure you will be OK?"

"Yes, yes, yes, just let me rest for a few hours and I'll be back to my good old cheeky self." Against her better judgement, she let him out of the car.

Standing on the sidewalk, a wan smile settles onto Lucifer's tired face, waving goodbye to Chloe, he mouths, "thank you."

As the car rejoins the pulsating red brake light snake ribboning through L.A. traffic, Lucifer turns toward Lux's entry and stumbles.

Seeing two entrance doors, where there should only be one, the now lightheaded devil thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. Wait? Is Asherah causing me to feel like this? Is she somehow manipulating my mind? Why is everything spinning?

Feeling more and more unnerved, his heart races—he begins to hyperventilate again.

What's wrong with me? It feels like someone has grabbed my stomach into a ball and is squeezing it for all its worth.

Where is the damn door? Why does it keep on shifting? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Wait, there's the door frame." Plying himself to the door jamb for support, Lucifer, now panting from exertion, is over-come by another wave of nausea."

I've never 'puked' in my entire existence, and this marks the second time today that I… "Oh, bloody hell!" he cries, as he clamps his hand down hard over his mouth.

Making a dash for the nearest restroom, Lucifer runs into the first one he sees. The one that is crammed with early shift workers, mostly in their underwear or in various stages of undress, makeup and hair styling; where the reek of cigarettes and pot permeates, while gossip and laughter animate the tiny, windowless—employee— _ladies_ _room_.

Maze, about to walk out of the door, is surprised by Lucifer pushing his way in. "What the hell—Lucifer?" the demon shrieks as she's nearly knocked over by her rushing master.

Rippling through the squeals, screams and snickers of the other occupants, their boss dives into the nearest open stall and grosses everyone out with the sounds of him heaving up bile while coughing and gagging over the toilet.

Maze quickly empties the staff from the restroom and opens the stall door to find a mussed up Lucifer, sitting next to the toilet with his back propped up against the wall. He is as white as a sheet.

The devil's eyes half shut, cast a sideways glinting red glare at the demon; in a barely audible wavering voice, he orders: "this never happened. You are to be sworn to silence."

"Sure whatever you say—boss," she cajoled while offering her hand to help him up.

Standing at the sink splashing cold water on his face while trying to straighten out his disheveled clothing and tousled hair, the embarrassed king of hell huffs, "I'm never going to live this one down, am I?"

Enjoying a good laugh at her master's expense, the demon's eyes twinkled wickedly, "No, you sure won't."

Seriously, Lucifer, what in hell's name is wrong with you?

"I don't know, Maze, I've never felt as seriously ill as I've experienced today. I have this nagging feeling that my mother is behind it, but I can't be sure. Perhaps it's my nerves that are causing me to feel this way—I've been feeling out of sorts since very early this morning."

"Why don't you just go upstairs and try to relax before you work yourself up into a frenzy over something you have absolutely no control over…"

Avoiding the demon's glare, Lucifer stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror; his black as jet eyes betrayed the fear that haunted him—he looked a mess.

He couldn't admit to Maze that he was afraid to relax, afraid to lie down and most of all—afraid to fall asleep, lest his mother choose the moment to attack him.

"Earth to Lucifer, are you listening to me?" Maze chides, "Now get your devil's ass out of here and go upstairs."

"That's handsome devil's ass to you, besides I've always thought you rather liked my ass."

"Shut up and go upstairs—now!"

"Mm, you little dominatrix, I love when you command me to do your bidding."

Lucifer had to admit that Maze was right, lurching into the elevator, he steadied himself on the grab bars—his malaise wasn't letting up.

Perhaps some time at the piano might calm me, along with a few lines of shots. Yes, that sounds like a plan…

Entering the ruins of what had once been his home, Lucifer had forgotten how trashed it really was. Shining daylight was much less forgiving on the mess than the dark obscurity of night. Sighing heavily, he tries to ignore his surroundings.

Trudging over the crushed glass to his leather couch, the dead-tired devil sinks down into its butter soft comfort, slipping into slumber, he whispers a parting shot to Asherah:

"OK Mum, come and have at me…"


	9. Chapter 9: The Sound Of My Wings

A/N: Lucifer discovers why he's been so sick as of late. His Father decides to restore his wings and the whole process is quite physically painful. Lucifer, happy to have them back, realizes how much he'd missed them. Maze and Amenadiel help him through the ordeal.

Chloe shows up demanding to know what is going on with him, clambering up to his room, she gets more than an eyeful. The sight of a peacefully sleeping, Lucifer—in the nude, gets her so hot and bothered that she contemplates jumping his bones!

As always, your reviews and feedback would be much appreciated…

Chapter 9: The Sound of My Wings

Asherah sits atop Lucifer's chest with her hands clamped around his throat, her grip grows stronger with every choked whimper that escapes his mouth. He thrashes around beneath her, desperately trying to knock her off, but with all of his strength sapped—he can't. Asherah, aware that her victim is noticeably weakening, feels his resistance dissolving. Confident she will prevail; the goddess foresees the devil's demise.

Asherah finds strangling the life out of Lucifer a task test-worthy of her superpowers. The devil was not going to surrender easily. There was still a glimmer of life in the black windows to his soul. Determined, she digs down deep, summoning every last bit of her strength, her eyes glow red with renewed power while she redoubles her effort.

A sure sign that Lucifer is losing the fight, happens when his wings lose control, frantically unfurling, splayed beneath him, they flail; as the fallen angel's life force dims in the process.

His eyes stare but no longer see, his face flushed deep red from exertion, his lips have turned blue from lack of oxygen—he's run out of time…

The goddess delivers him the coup-de-grace when she crushes his trachea under her fingers. Convulsions followed by suffocation ensue—he gives up the struggle.

Asherah squeezes out the devil's last dying breath.

Heartbeats fading—the last sound he hears—till deafening silence reigns. Blackness engulfs his spirit; death's steely embrace is but cold comfort.

A single beam, a bright white flash, emits from Asherah's eyes, pulverizing Lucifer's body into cosmic dust. With a single puff, she blows his essence out of the palm of her hand into the very far corners of the universe. Expunged from the realms of heaven, earth, and hell—the devil ceases to be.

A jubilant smile illuminates Asherah's face, glaring straight up towards the heavens, she cries out, "Now…we're even."

Waking up with a start—his heart still pounding, Lucifer sits straight up from napping on the couch and takes a great gulp of breath. Filling his lungs, he attempts to reclaim the air he'd stopped breathing a few moments ago, while he was dreaming.

He knew it had only been a dream, yet it had felt so real. Lucifer ran his hand over his neck just to make sure.

Shaking his head to wake up, he screws his face into a puzzled frown, "hang on, I had my _wings_ in that dream—they felt so good on my back again. I do miss them…What an impetuous ass I was to have destroyed them…"

His chills were gone and so was the queasiness he'd experienced earlier. He seemed to be back to his normal self—a bit on the warm side—just the way he likes it.

Well, that nap seems to have done me a world of good, but I could really use a drink.

Pouring himself a good stiff glassful, he welcomes the familiar heat of the alcohol as it warms his insides.

Now that's better, no more of those pesky chills.

Back to his old habits, he pours out a series of shots in a neat line on the piano and starts to play, sucking them down one after another. The simple act of playing music is a release for Lucifer as well as a great source of consolation. It helps him to think clearer. Goodness knows, he has plenty on his mind.

After a few rousing renditions of some blues and honky-tonk tunes, he becomes decidedly more reflective. Was it the three lines of shots he'd downed or was it possible for the prince of darkness to be afflicted with a case of the blue devils? Lining up yet another row of shots, Lucifer begins to play anew; elegant hands with long graceful fingers weave the haunting melody of Debussy's Claire de Lune.

Beads of sweat drip from Lucifer's forehead onto the keyboard, he feels quite hot—even for the devil. Interrupting his reverie long enough to remove his jacket and vest, he notices that his Prada shirt is saturated from perspiration. Tempted to remove the wet shirt that was now sticking to his body, he decides to roll his sleeves up instead.

No mind, _I welcome the heat_.

Picking up where he left off, Lucifer drifts back into the music—Claire de Lune is one of his favorite pieces. One which he never fails to draw comfort from as he caresses the enchanting notes from the piano keys.

Unfortunately, his musing is short lived as his body and mind begin to break down. The more he plays, the more incoherent he becomes. He wonders if he is drunk or delirious—or both? While attacking the fourth line of shots, Lucifer feels the room spinning out of control.

His consciousness on the wane, the glass slips from his hand and falls to the ground. In the next instant, he crumples onto the instrument, crashing his head down on the piano top and sending the line of shot glasses flinging off into every direction. Limp hands fumble down on the keys in a loud discordant manner, while his lithe body, continuing its slow descent, slips all the way down to the floor while taking the piano bench with it.

It was now early evening when the last rays of sun streamed through the penthouse windows causing the shattered shards of glass on the floor to sparkle. The fading golden light formed an eerie halo around Lucifer's twisted form. Still unconscious, he had been lying on the floor for hours. The normally dapper devil is now a hot mess: he's soaked to the skin from sweat, his hair is wet and stuck to his temples, his face is flushed and his breathing is ragged.

As soon as the elevator door opens onto the penthouse, Maze and Amenadiel immediately sense that something is very wrong. Switching on the lights, they see the overturned piano bench and catch sight of the form sprawled out next to it. It is Lucifer who is passed out cold on the floor.

Rushing over to the fallen devil's side, the pair stares down at him in astonishment.

"Amenadiel, how could something like this happen to him? Do you think that your mother could have done this?"

Closing his eyes, momentarily slowing time, Amenadiel murmurs, "No, I don't sense her presence having been here." Kneeling down next to Lucifer, he examines his unconscious body for signs of a struggle or of an attack—none were found. The angel, at a loss for answers, cannot figure out what has happened to his brother.

Concern forming a lump in his throat, Amenadiel begins to feel apprehensive, "He was fine when I left him here this morning."

"Enough talk, I know what he needs," yells Maze, disappearing into the back rooms of the apartment.

Caring for Lucifer—her master—was still her job. Unfortunately, demons, and this one especially don't tend to be the nurturing kind. In a flash, she returns to the scene carrying a bucket of ice cold water and proceeds to pour it on Lucifer's head. Unfortunately, the water does not produce the desired effect. The patient did not respond to her treatment.

Clearly puzzled by Lucifer's strange and sudden affliction, Maze's notorious impatience mounts.

Frustrated, the demon hissed, "what should we do now?"

Sensing that Lucifer was in no immediate mortal danger, Maze asks Amenadiel for help, "Let's get him out of these wet clothes and put him to bed—he'll probably sleep it off."

Amenadiel gently picks up Lucifer, holding snug his collapsed brother in his arms, he carries him up to his bedroom. A flurry of dark hands relieves him of his wet clothes, flinging all of the parts of his prized designer suit unceremoniously into small piles around the room.

Caring for her master can at times, be trying—this was one of those times. Maze dutifully towel dries Lucifer and decides to subject him to a bit of naughtiness: her eyes dance over his pale body, she knows it like the back of her hand: every inch of it. Grinning wickedly—she leaves him splayed out on his bed—au naturel.

Feeling his forehead, the demon finds that he is still burning with fever.

Outwardly, she cursed him for being such a pain in the ass, "what had he gotten himself into this time?" But, inwardly, she hated to see him in such a weakened state.

Temper flaring, her face twisting into a scowl, running her tongue along the bottom of her razor sharp teeth, Maze swears, "I'll get to the bottom of this. Whoever is responsible will be punished by me—personally."

Several hours of peace and quiet had befallen the penthouse, when later into the evening, screams emerging from Lucifer's bedchamber broke the tenuous truce. Maze and Amenadiel, napping on the couch, were brusquely awakened by the commotion. Bounding up the stairs to his room, they found the devil writhing around on his bed—howling and crying in pain.

God's gift…

"What's putting him in this state? He's only getting worse." Maze huffs.

Remembering the agony, Lucifer had gone through when she cut off his wings, she recalled he'd said, _"it was the most physically painful thing I've ever experienced in all my life."_ Maze had a gut feeling that the misery Lucifer was currently suffering through might be related to the scars on his back. She knew that Lucifer endured frequent bouts of phantom pain from where his wings had been cut off, but nothing of this magnitude.

Maze had never seen her lord like this, the mighty king of hell was literally crying in pain while he gathered himself up into a ball; exposing the source of his suffering. The demon's eyes widened as she could see the scars on his back were pulsing with activity like some horrifying SCIFI flick.

A great gasp escapes the demoness, "Wait" she shouts, her jaw dropping in amazement, "his wings—they are growing back!"

Bones, blood vessels, and feathers, coming to life beneath the scars, were piercing their way up through his old wounds. Lucifer's back had become a landscape of broken bloodied skin, protruding bones and feathers, and rivulets of blood.

The devil manages to turn over onto his stomach where he is able to bury his face in the pillow to muffle the screams as the waves of burning pain wash over him.

"Bloody Hell" he wails, "it hurts more to grow them back than it did to cut them off!"

Maze attempts to blot the blood off of his back with towels, but there is so much of it, that she can barely keep up.

Stunned by what is happening to his brother, Amenadiel drops to his knees and prays to their Father for guidance. Telepathically, he receives an answer. Pure joy fills his heart as a rapt smile crosses the warrior angel's face. Feeling his Father's touch, though it was only fleeting, comforts him and fills him with a renewed sense of much-needed fortitude. Beaming, he whispers into his brother's ear:

"Luci, Father heard the doubts and fears that you expressed last night in our conversation. He heard you declare your remorse over destroying your wings and has decided to restore them to you. He knows you are going to need all of the help you can get to bring our mother back to hell."

Lucifer muffled into the pillow, "Thank you Dad, but do I detect an extra bit of tough love there in the pain department?" Just then, he's racked by another searing fit of agony, he gasps, "I take that as a—yes."

Considered throughout the heavens as a one-of-a-kind celestial masterpiece, Lucifer's original wings were the envy of all the other angels. God never made another pair as beautiful and as powerful as them again—until now. This new pair of wings is a clone of the originals. Like the first pair, they are a truly special piece of divinity. Each feather is a separate divine entity that glows with the warmth and love of God. The individual feathers have special healing powers that can heal divine beings and mortals from deadly injuries.

The wings were now unfurling from the scars on Lucifer's back. He felt their familiar heft and the sensation of them throughout his body. He'd forgotten how they made him feel. How they seemed to inform his very essence. Without them, he wasn't really sure who or what he was, but now, his sense of self was re-emerging. Amenadiel had been right about him assuming his natural form. Lucifer hadn't longed to assume it because he didn't realize how much he'd lost until his wings were returned to him.

Over the next couple of hours, Lucifer's wings are fully regrown. They are a sight to behold. The wings mesmerize, emitting their own divine light that shimmers in a pearlescent otherworldly glow. They are as beautiful as his first.

It is now almost dawn and Lucifer finally, falls asleep. His face is at peace, his breath relaxed, and his soft warm wings envelop him in the way they were always meant to. In this moment, he finally admits to himself just how much he'd actually missed them.

Everyone in the penthouse was in a fitful sleep; Maze and Amenadiel cuddled on the couch and Lucifer finally tranquil, when the elevator comes up to the floor. Before the doors open, the demon and angel jump up to the entrance. Chloe Decker is at the door and she is not amused.

Looking clearly concerned, Chloe barks, "Where is he? I called all day yesterday and last night. He didn't return my calls—Is he OK?"

Maze and Amenadiel look at each other like cats that had swallowed a canary. Despite her glaring disapproval of Lucifer's pet detective, Maze begrudges her an answer, "he wasn't feeling well most of the day, but he is finally feeling better and is now sleeping it off."

The wily demon omits one tiny detail—that Lucifer's wings had been restored by _—God!_

Not convinced that the culpable pair before her was telling the truth, Chloe gives them both a once-over and decides, using her seasoned powers of deduction, that they are withholding information.

"Ok," she offers, "so I will go in and see for myself." Storming off, she bounds up the stairs to Lucifer's bedroom.

"Uh, oh," Maze lets out under her breath, snickering, "his pet detective is going to get an eyeful…"

Bracing for the scream that was sure to ensue once Chloe would set eyes upon her partner; now turned angel, sleeping naked on the bed in all of his winged glory. The angel and demon closed their eyes tightly and waited, and waited—but it never came.

Chloe had clambered up to Lucifer's bedroom to find his usual immaculate chamber in a complete state of bedlam. His clothes were literally thrown around the room, there were piles and piles of bloody towels and bloody sheets—everywhere.

When her eyes finally alight on him, lying in the center of his bed, she can't help but stare. Lucifer, in the nude, was sleeping ever so peacefully. What a beautiful sight to behold, she had never seen him look so…angelic. At that instant, he really was the most beautiful angel, in Chloe's mind at least. His wings were invisible to her at the moment. Evidently, Lucifer had pulled them in at some point during the night, otherwise, there would have been a lot of explaining to do.

Chloe stood there, drinking him in for a while—she couldn't help herself. Here was her free pass to examine him without being subjected to any lewd comments or propositions. The temptation was too much to turn down—so she didn't.

It just wasn't fair for a man to have such beautiful dark lashes long enough to brush his cheeks, his slightly parted mouth whose lips begged to be kissed; his neck, arched toward her, solicited a trail of love bites. Tracing down his chest and stomach, her eyes take in all of the little details, like that tiny mole at his collar bone. Contemplating his defined chest, rhythmically rising and falling; she imagines it heaving, in the throes of passion—panting.

 _No wonder women throw themselves at him—he is the living breathing embodiment of temptation_.

Only yesterday, she'd been introduced to his smooth-skinned, torso. All of those delicious moments came rushing back. The feel of his skin when she pressed her face against his chest, the smell of him, and feeling the warmth of his embrace when he'd held her close.

Continuing, down to his stomach, where she'd felt for a scar yesterday. Lucifer had taken her hand into his, urging her to feel the perfect smoothness of his unscarred skin; gently proving to her that there was no vestige of a wound.

Her eyes continue to trail downward to where she most wants to let her hand wander—lower. Biting her lip, her gaze comes to rest upon his hard-on. A slight gasp escapes her mouth; she feels fluttering in her belly. She fantasizes what it would be like to caress…OK! _That's quite enough_ —she chastises herself. She'd seen enough today…

For the first time, Chloe actually contemplates jumping Lucifer's bones—right there and right then.

Her heart was melting over this man. She knew she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, no matter how much she denied it: their thing was on! He could be such an ass, but he was also the sweetest man she had ever known. She knew he would do anything for her as she would for him.

How much longer would they play this cat and mouse game before giving into their feelings for each other? After all, they were both nearly killed a couple of days ago— _life is too damn short_. Yet, she still continued to harbor reservations about her partner.

Abruptly, Chloe ends her contemplation of Lucifer, tearing her eyes away from him, she cautions herself; I better get out of here now before he wakes up and tries to drag me into his bed. Because right now, I would not be able to turn him down.

Before leaving, she covers his body with a sheet in an almost motherly fashion and plants a little kiss on his cheek.

As she turns to leave, she notices a single small downy white feather floating in the air over him. The feather is absolutely beautiful. It seems to glow from within—it has an ethereal presence. Chloe catches it in her hand and the sublimely soft feather glows in her palm while throwing off a gentle warmth. She feels completely at peace while holding the feather like the whole world is right. For the first time ever, she thinks she feels the love of God filling her heart. While she doesn't really believe in that sort of thing, there's no denying how her heart feels right now. All that from a tiny feather? Could the feather be from a _real_ angel?

She'd heard Lucifer wax poetic about his wings, he had described them as _magnificent_ and _divine_ : he said _they carried the light of God within them_. But his wings were gone now, he had told her that he'd destroyed them. So was this little feather in her hand somehow a remnant of those wings?

Chloe knew intrinsically that this feather belonged to Lucifer—it somehow contained the essence of his being. Touching it was like touching him. Watching him sleeping so serenely, he looked so innocent. She tried to picture him with his wings, her heart skipped a beat at how beautiful and powerful that image was.

What a paradox he is. Am I falling in love with the devil or an angel? I'm trying to make peace with one day possibly having sex with the devil. I've never imagined what having sex with a real angel would be like…oh God! _Have I gone completely crazy?_

Preparing to leave, Chloe carefully wraps Lucifer's hand around the little feather. Walking out of his bedroom with her ponytail in full bouncing mode, she does not see the beaming smile on his face. He is watching her intently, while gently cradling the errant wing feather in his hand.

 _I'll let her see the real me when the time is right…_ He couldn't wait.

On the way out, Chloe glares at Maze and Amenadiel and scowls, "What happened to him? What's with all of the bloodied bed linens and towels—what really went on up there?

Met with resounding silence, Chloe huffs, "OK, don't tell me, but I will find out what you two are hiding."

After Chloe leaves, the supernatural pair assesses Lucifer's condition. He had lost a lot of blood and would be quite weak for a few days. But other than that, they were sure that his strength would return and that he'd be up and flying about in no time.

With that assessment, the angel and the demon, decide to take their leave of him for a few hours. After all, watching Lucifer sleep is akin to watching paint dry—boring!

Besides, what could possibly happen while they were away.

The Tempest Is Nigh

A short while later, the skies darken, the wind picks up and it begins to storm…

Lightning flashes off into the distance, illuminating passing dark clouds. Thunder rolls, building in intensity and sound, as the storm approaches. Terrace plantings sway in the wind leaves flutter; rain pelts into the broken windows.

A breeze wafts the wet smell of city streets up through the penthouse. Inside, palpable humidity oppresses. The languid clime of a stormy afternoon belies the crackling atmosphere charged with unbridled wrath—slowly seeping in.

An unnatural hum vibrates the penthouse with growing intensity. Directly overhead, lightning's bright flash momentarily illuminates before a booming peal of thunder rattles what's left of the windows.

Small cracks appear on one of the building's corner terraces. The hum turns into a loud whine as the building tremors.

Lucifer, weakened by the extreme loss of blood suffered during the rebirth of his wings, lies naked and vulnerable on his bed. His nascent wings are still quite tender and can't yet support flying. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, the devil succumbs to sleep: deeply, dreamlessly and peacefully, like he hasn't in quite some time—unaware of the approaching tempest…


	10. Chapter 10: Lucifer's Day Of Reckoning

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N: Asherah finally shows up to punish Lucifer for locking her away in hell. It seems that she has developed feelings for the fallen angel that she finds troubling. But that doesn't stop her from punishing him—good.

Learning that God gave Lucifer his wings back makes her so mad that she wants to rip them off of his back with her bare hands. She effectively neutralizes Lucifer and his wings in a matter of minutes during her opening attack. After that, it's a downhill slide for Lucifer as he realizes that he hasn't a chance in hell against her goddess's powers.

Amenadiel and Maze are MIA for most of the chapter, leaving poor Lucifer to fend for himself.

Asherah is pretty rough on Lucifer, mentally and physically. He's in pretty bad shape at the end.

This chapter was a real roller coaster ride to write. As always, your feedback and reviews are much appreciated.

Chapter 10: Lucifer's Day of Reckoning

The Last Idol

Late in the afternoon, when the shadows began to lengthen and the rain had stopped, the sound of thunder rolled in the distance. A long, low, rumble, builds in sound and intensity as one of the sundecks at the corner of the building quakes.

Tiles crack, and cement crumbles, as dirt and rock erupt. Through the cloud of dust still suspended in midair, something emerges from the hole just caved.

From out of nowhere, an ancient Cypress tree had just sprung through the roof. The huge tree is so tall that it seems to touch the very sky. There's something nurturing about its broad limbs, shouldered from a trunk of wide girth, reaching out in an embrace, like great welcoming arms.

The tree, which looked oddly out of place on a roof top garden in LA, would have seemed more at home on the cliffs of Big Sur, or along the hilltops of ancient Israel—or up in heaven.

Such trees are long-lived; some have existed for millennia. This particular tree dates back to when Asherah had been worshiped and revered. From time immemorial, the idols carved on its trunk: the serpent, the Tree of Life, and the lion, have been the enduring emblems of the mother goddess.

Against all odds, this last idol, had endured the scourge of the zealous revisionist editors of the early bible. Those ancient authors had called for the utter destruction of Asherah's idols throughout the land, in all of the temples, and most of all, beside the altars devoted to the worship of Yahweh. To this day, no others have survived because they were all burned to ash…

Hidden away on an inaccessible mountainside in the hinterlands beyond ancient Jerusalem, lies a secret grove whose location is known only to Asherah. It was there that she planted a sapling upon whose trunk she had carved her idols. The now majestic tree, gracefully bent by the trade winds blowing towards the distant Mediterranean Sea, has endured the rugged desolation of this forlorn place for nearly an eternity.

The goddess did not choose to preserve a wooden artifact—one of her "Asherah Poles." Instead, she chose a living, breathing, entity, that came from nature, to immortalize her idol.

Asherah Makes Her Entrance

Shafts of bright light shine through the highest branches of the tree's canopy, casting an otherworldly luminance upon the rubble below. This is no ordinary tree, it inspires feelings of awe and apprehension—it resonates with mystical, enigmatic power.

Down below, at the tree's base, darker emotions haunt; the feeling of being watched, triggers fear.

A pair of fire-tinged, reptilian eyes peer from behind the depths of its foliage, looking down with fanged mouth opened wide, the sound of loud hissing sends chills down the spine. There, at the very top of the tree, wrapped up in its highest branches, a huge serpent has ensconced itself. Closest to the cerulean sky above, the loftiest limbs bend under its weight, soft needled green leaves reminiscent of lace, caress its hard ridged scales.

Gripping the gnarled tree, the serpent undulates down along its bole to the ground, where it steals its way in through the broken windows of the penthouse.

Silently slithering over the shattered, glass-littered, floor; the scent of prey drives the prehistoric viper to its surreptitious destination. Black as the night, with terrifying blood red eyes, the sinister serpent crawls up the stairs to Lucifer's bedroom, where it silently coils in a dark corner—ready to pounce.

The serpent instantly dissolves and morphs into a beautiful woman.

Asherah had made her entrance...

Still soundly asleep, Lucifer is unaware of her presence. He does not yet know that which he has feared and fretted over the last few days—is finally here.

She lingers in the dark for quite a while, taking her time to carefully study the body of her son in all of his naked-as-the-day-he-was-created beauty. Moving into the light, she plants herself at the foot of his bed so that she might breathe in a great gulp of him. With her eyes closed, she murmurs, "mmm…you smell of crushed pine boughs, your scent is still absolutely intoxicating—son."

The Scent of an Angel

 _The scent of him causes Asherah's memories to flood back in…_

On that day, at the temple of Babylon, when he'd strutted in with those magnificent wings of his—he'd taken my breath away. Beautiful, prideful, powerful, carnal and infernal, he was the original _bad_ boy.

 _I'd wanted him since the day I first laid eyes on him_.

Yes, _I was still married to God_ then, but I could not help myself—I wanted to _taste_ him. I knew he was but _a guilty pleasure_ —one that I could never, ever, have. But I could still _fantasize_ about him.

 _His resemblance to his Father was uncanny—he was the spitting image of my husband when we were still together._

It was rather… _disconcerting._

Yes, I'd lost my temper on that day at the temple; Lucifer had turned me down— _no one had ever turned me down_. I became blind with rage, I let my temper get the best of me, and took him forcibly. But the revenge was so sweet—especially because I knew God was watching all the while, as I ravished his favorite son.

What sweet delight he gave up to me. At first, I felt his terror and anguish, but then, he could no longer resist, and he abandoned himself to our pleasure. Oh, the feel of him inside me, meeting my gyrations with forceful thrusts, panting and moaning. I can still see his face glistening with sweat— _he was enraptured_.

Yes, he was broken after it was all over, but during— _his true desires played through._

Later on, that fateful day, when I'd found him dying from an overdose of snake venom— _my venom_. I cradled him in my arms. And then it happened: _all of those_ _feelings—confusing feelings—welled up inside of me. Long forgotten feelings of loving and caring that I'd thought I was no longer capable of_.

Why did I even care what happened to him? He had already served his purpose. I didn't need him—so why save him? Somehow, he'd wormed his way in, I couldn't help myself: I had feelings for him.

 _I couldn't let him die, so I saved his life_.

 _Feelings make you weak—look at what happened to me because I loved and trusted._

 _I can't let any messy feelings I may still have for him get in the way of my plan_.

 _I won't let anything get in the way of my ultimate revenge._

 _No more distractions…_

I will take my vengeance on you, son. I cannot forget, nor can I forgive you, _for all of those thousands of_ _years I spent locked in hell at your hands_. Feelings or no feelings, _I still have to punish you Lucifer, and punish you, I will—thoroughly._

 _I have absolutely no intention of returning to hell; I still have unfinished business to attend to…_

Payback's a bitch

Continuing her exploration of him, she allows herself to linger over his youthful face. When she'd last seen him, he wore his black curling hair in flowing locks that came down past his shoulders and he sported a short jaw-defining beard. Now his modern look; the short cropped hair cut and the five o'clock shadow, exposed more of the handsome features of his face.

While allowing herself one last stolen breath of him, she picks up a scent that is foreign to the fallen angel— _weakness with a delicious undertone of fear_ —one of her favorite combinations!

What could have possibly made the strong and powerful devil as weak as a baby? Asherah could sense that his energy was barely there. She was mystified as to how this condition had come about since the devil that she knew could not get sick. Shifting her focus from him, she noticed the piles of bloody towels and sheets strewn around the bed.

She knew all of the blood in the room was Lucifer's, but what could have caused him to lose so much of it? Asherah sensed that something divine had happened to Lucifer here.

 _Easy enough to find out…_

Closing her eyes, she places her hands a few inches above his body to feel his aura. Her hands are immediately drawn over to his back. Asherah sees the newly nascent wings beneath their invisible earthly shield.

"Oh! What have we here? She coos. Aren't they just the cutest?"

"Well, well, getting soft in your old age?" she says looking up at the sky. "I know you restored all of his angelic powers my sweet, and that's really such a lovely gesture on your part. But wings or no wings, he will be no match for me, and you know it. You are leading him to slaughter. Have you such little regard for him that you'd throw him away?"

Looking back up at Lucifer from the foot of the bed, she could sense that he was waking.

He sneezes, once, twice, and a third time…

That scent, that awful fragrance; an affront to his nose— _frankincense and myrrh—reek of the old Babylonian temple: the stench of sacrifice._

He knew before he opened his eyes— _Asherah is here_.

Lucifer's black eyes blink open and widen with terror, as he fully focuses upon the living nightmare that has manifested itself at the foot of his bed.

"Hello Mum," he spits out, his voice dripping with acrimony. "So very nice to see you again, he says coldly."

"Now Lucifer, is that any way to speak to your mother? She teases. I've missed my baby boy so terribly over the years. I've dreamt of the day when I would see you again for thousands of years."

"Now that day is upon us," she hisses.

"Go to hell!" He spits out

"You too—son, "she laughs, "you too!"

"Touché—mother."

"You know as well as I do, that you are not my mother and I am not your son. Father created me as I am now and he did the same to you. Neither of us had a mother. Father created me to serve him and he created you to be his wife. Too bad we both failed so miserably at our intended purposes."

Infuriated, Asherah reacts with lightning quick reflexes by sucker-punching Lucifer in the nose with such force that he sees stars.

"How dare you talk to me in that manner—angel. Remember your place, I am still a goddess, and I am above your rank in power and divinity. Just as Father made you the brightest and most beautiful of all the angels, he made me the most powerful of all the gods and goddesses he'd created.

I never did anything but love, honor and obey your Father, but the bastard threw me away, He cast me out from my home and my family. He thought I'd go gently into the night and do as I was told. Well, we all know how that turned out. Don't we son?"

"I know you hate me Lucifer, but you needn't worry, because I hate you too and I've broken out of hell to show you just how much."

"By the way, where did you pick up that accent?"

Blood trickling from his nose and split lip, Lucifer glares at Asherah with fiery crimson eyes; "where did you pick up that bloody right hook?"

Asherah, who has barely aged, is as beautiful as she was all of those millennia ago when they'd met up at the temple. Exuding sexuality, her energy crackles and sparkles around her.

For today's activities, she has dressed herself up as a very elegant dominatrix. Outfitted in a dark plum leather bustier with a matching short, tight, leather, skirt, and thigh-high, black, spike-heeled boots—she certainly looks the part.

She plans on thoroughly disciplining Lucifer for cramming her into that hell hole and throwing away the key.

Asherah is the feminine version of Lucifer, and like him, she oozes of carnality. They both look to be about the same age, though Lucifer is the most ancient of the two. The family resemblance is undeniable; they could pass as siblings.

The benefits of being a goddess, give Asherah a much greater range of powers than Lucifer. Like him, she has the ability to draw out the deepest desires from most anyone. But, her full range of powers, which are second only to God, include omniscience, teleportation, and telekinesis. Other powers in her arsenal include: the power to read minds by invading people's heads, and mind control, where she can force them to do her bidding.

Engaging the goddess in any kind of conflict would most likely end in defeat, or quite possibly in death if her notorious temper was ever ignited.

The only way Lucifer could gain the upper hand on her would be to rely on his abilities of cunning, and agility, and especially, on the element of surprise. Strength in numbers is another one of her weaknesses—she can be worn down.

Standing at the foot of Lucifer's bed, Asherah eyes her quarry.

Searching her face, a wide-eyed Lucifer whispers, "Asherah please—don't." Swallowing hard, he knows she will show him no mercy.

He decides to make a run for it. Leaping out of the bed he runs towards the shattered windows and tries to unfurl his wings to fly away.

Unfortunately, he is still too weak to accomplish his escape. He falls to the ground, just short of the windows. His wings were not quite able to fly—just yet. Lying face first on the floor, wings splayed out, Lucifer tries to crawl away from the goddess.

Scowling at his desperate attempt to flee, Asherah anticipates how she will break Lucifer before he knows what hit him. Unbeknownst to him, while she was still the Heavenly Mother, she'd honed some unique skill sets involving the care, or—destruction—of an angel's wings.

 _No one understands angel anatomy better than me, after all, I spent eons as nursemaid to all of_ _Yahweh's angel sons_. I was the one who tended to their sprains, bruises and breaks from fights and battles they'd taken part in. _I know that an angel's wings are intrinsic to their well-being_ and conversely, _I also know what a liability they can be if they are injured badly enough._

 _An angel's equilibrium is dependent upon the health and function of their wings_. A _serious_ wing injury could render an angel _defenseless_. A _severe_ injury could be totally debilitating, leaving them _crippled_. _Unfortunately, if both wings are involved, the results could be fatal._

If Lucifer thinks he will have some kind of advantage over me now that he has his wings back, he is mistaken. He's about to find out first-hand, how I will be able to incapacitate him in a matter of seconds. I know exactly where to grab at his wings and how to inflict the maximum damage in the minimum amount of time.

 _Those newly restored wings of his have barely hardened yet, while they are still tender, perhaps I might tear them off with my bare hands…_

"Just where do you think you are going?" the goddess chuckles as she prepares to punish Lucifer.

Asherah opens her attack by grabbing Lucifer's right wing and uses it to pull him up off of the floor. She expertly yanks on the newly nascent wing with such force, that she nearly pulls it off of his back, causing his old wound to rip open. Blood spurts from the gash and bleeds out all over his wings.

Screaming in agony, Lucifer is brought to his knees. The white hot pain sears from the old scar on his back. Looking over his shoulder at his wing, he is sickened to the pit of his gut when he sees that it is sagging lifelessly from him and that it's pearlescent glow has faded.

Asherah enraged that her ex-husband restored Lucifer's wings, sets out to destroy them. She grabs the other wing with both hands, and twists it apart, until an awful bone crunching sound reverberates through the air, leaving the wing hanging limply, at an off angle.

Lucifer's screams contort into an unworldly howl echoed in the cement canyon beyond the broken windows. Racked with waves of pain, disorientation, and nausea, he crumples to the floor.

Raising himself to his knees, his shoulders curled over his chest, Lucifer tries to grab at his wings, but he can only get a glimpse of the damage. His magnificent wings, now drooping, dulled and bloodied, suffer involuntary spasms that cause them to flail.

The devil hadn't anticipated that in Asherah's opening attack, she would mercilessly neutralize his wings so easily. He'd already lost so much blood while his wings regenerated and he was in such a weakened state, that he was not prepared to engage the goddess in any kind of conflict.

 _Lucifer quickly surmises that he hasn't a chance in hell against the goddess's powers._

He prays to Amenadiel to come and help him, _"brother, she's here!"_

Kneeling before Asherah, with his arms crossed over his stomach, he clutched himself as if they would hold him together. Panting from the pain, Lucifer looks up at her pleadingly, with tears behind his eyelids

The goddess, standing straight above, glares down at him with gray eyes now cold and dark as the stormy sea. Her beautiful face twisted into a sneer that grows into ugly laughter as she mocks him.

"Thinking we're all done son? I'm just getting started." Without lifting a finger, Asherah effortlessly throws him up against a stone wall with such force that he almost crashes through it.

Shaking his head, Lucifer emerges unsteadily, lurching forward, his balance severely compromised; he takes an empty swing at Asherah—and misses.

Still, he tries to escape from her clutches by attempting to stagger away…

Spinning him around to face her, Asherah backs Lucifer up against the wall, where she delivers another powerful right hook that breaks his jaw. She lays into him with a barrage of blows to his chest and gut. The sound of breaking bones and cracking ribs continues until she delivers a punch to his head that nearly knocks him out.

Wavering, but still standing, Lucifer has trouble focusing, he feels light headed and weak from bleeding. Holding on to the wall, he tries to steady himself and stay conscious. He prays to Amenadiel once again.

" _Amenadiel, please…I don't have a chance without you—please, help me!"_

On the ropes now, things aren't boding well for the fallen angel. He's lost his equilibrium and can't keep his balance. All he can do, to endure this beating of a lifetime, is to get through it—somehow.

Growing more desperate by the minute, Lucifer calls upon Amenadiel—again.

" _Brother, where the hell are you? Please…help me… she's too powerful… I'm not going to make it…"_

Lucifer is so distraught with pain that he can no longer think straight. It saddens him that Amenadiel has apparently abandoned him at the very time when he needs him the most.

 _Why hasn't he come? I guess he's not going to. Is this his way of getting me back to hell? Because if she kills me, that's exactly where I will go. If I don't bring her back with me, Father won't be returning me back up here anytime soon. Well played brother—well played. I'll stop bothering you._

Steeling himself against his pain and fear, Lucifer finds the resolve to stand up straight and walk calmly over to face his punisher.

Asherah watches him intently, as he closes in with his palms up, signaling surrender.

"Have we had enough—son…well, too bad, because I'm not finished with you—yet."

Lions, and Vipers, and Trees, Oh, My!

Inflicting Lucifer's tentative gaze with her bone-chilling glare, the goddess raises her hand with the palm facing out and uses her telekinetic powers to throw him outside and onto the terrace, a distance of nearly forty feet.

Lucifer smashes through the window, sending shards of glass showering onto the terrace. He ends up slammed against a tree, with such force, that it knocks the wind out of him.

Sitting at the bottom of this great tree, Lucifer gradually opens his eyes. He'd hit the back of his head on the tree trunk hard enough for a lump to be felt. Holding his hand to his forehead, he tried to get his bearings. Everything hurt, his entire body was tormented with pain. Leaning his head back against the tree, Lucifer, closes his eyes while his body shudders and his breath saws.

Then it hit him—tree? What tree? Looking up into the crown of this old Cypress, Lucifer squints when he gazes at the bright columns of light filtering down on him. For the first time, he notices that he's actually sprawled out over a pile of rubble.

Where did this come from and why is it here? Wait, what are those carvings…oh, _this tree belongs to_ _Asherah_. It looks like one of her idols, but I thought they'd all been destroyed.

 _She's laid claim to me…_

The energy coming off the tree was palpable. Lucifer let his head rest up against its gnarled trunk while he tried to catch his breath. It was at that moment, that he felt as if he was being watched…

And then he heard it—loud hissing right next to his left ear. Lucifer opens his eyes and spies a large black viper with blood red eyes and huge fangs just inches from his face. The serpent had noiselessly crawled down the tree trunk and coiled around it. The viper whose mouth hinged wide open, with fangs hanging, was positioned to pounce.

Frozen with fear, Lucifer's eyes reflect the sheer terror that's racing through him. Before he can move a muscle, the serpent sinks its fangs down into him brutally, biting him on his chest.

The bite, sunk down into his chest so deeply, that he feels as if he'd just been stabbed through the heart by a dagger, up to its hilt. A mix of blood and venom ooze from the two puncture wounds, as the poison begins to spread throughout his body. Searching for the serpent, Lucifer finds that it has disappeared as suddenly as it had materialized.

Clutching his chest, Lucifer steadies himself against the tree and tries to walk back into the penthouse. He knew he only had a few minutes before the venom would begin to paralyze him.

Asherah was nowhere to be found.

He'd lurched forward only a few steps, when he heard a loud roar coming from very close by. Without turning to see how close, his flight instinct takes hold, with his adrenaline pumping, he launches himself toward the penthouse, running and stumbling as fast as he could.

With the roaring lion nipping at his heels, Lucifer is able to make it inside and to slide the glass door shut in the beast's face. His entire body shaking from the effort, Lucifer breathes a sigh of relief. But, it is short-lived.

Pay The Piper

Hit by a wave of excruciating pain from all of his wounds, the loss of blood coming from his wounded wing is catching up with him. He can no longer support his own weight, dropping down to his knees, his shoulders curl over his chest and he crumples to the ground.

Suddenly, he sees the pointed toes of Asherah's spike-heeled boots in his field of vision.

She's glaring down at him with disdain. The viper and the lion are gone—but she is there, like an apparition, standing right in front of him.

Unceremoniously, she kicks him over, pushing him down on his back with her foot. Lucifer finds himself splayed out on the shard-lined floor with her spike heeled boot on his neck. His limbs are beginning to feel heavy as the venom begins to take hold. Panting heavily, he offers no resistance.

Removing her boot from his neck, the goddess straddles him before kneeling down on his chest.

Lucifer screams in pain as the pressure of her crouching on his broken ribs feels like he's being stabbed with a knife. He tries to push her off, but he finds his arms are too weak.

"Look at me," Asherah commands, but when he defiantly turns his head away from her, she punches him in the face repeatedly until he turns his head back to her. "I said, look at me!" She screams. His eyes are so swollen, that he can barely open them, but he tries. "That's better my dove," she smiles.

Grabbing his hands and holding them down above his head, Asherah gets face to face with Lucifer, their eyes lock: black to gray, searching each other. Then her eyes change color from the calm blue-green-gray of the sea to flaming crimson—blood red—just like his.

Her beautiful form morphs into that of a hell demon.

Her hands turn to claws and her skin melts into purple and red blisters. Her flowing hair has burned off, leaving a few straggly wisps on her mostly bald head, her mouth stretches out into a toothy maw, and her nose is nearly burnt off.

Stunned, Lucifer stares back at her, he hadn't known that she'd suffered such a torment. _I didn't deliver_ _that punishment;_ _I wonder who did_?

"Yes, I know it wasn't you who'd punished me. I'll tell you who did punish me in this way—it was your Father. During my fall from heaven, he burned me—like he did to you. How do you think I survived all of those thousands of years in hell—in my celestial form? No, Yahweh thinks of everything, he'd already burned me into this."

Despite all of the pain he was in, Lucifer looked so sad to see what his Father had done to Asherah when he cast her out of heaven. She was an innocent then, she hadn't done anything wrong, yet he still inflicted such a cruel punishment on her. _Perhaps her rage wasn't entirely misplaced._

Noticing his softened gaze, she scowls at him, "I don't need or want your pity."

Lucifer's head flops back, his limbs are too heavy to move, his breaths are hard and raspy, but the pain in all of its intensity, remains—the venom is doing its job.

"One last thing," she purrs, her burning red hot eyes sear into his, while she forcibly attempts to enter his mind. "What are your deepest and darkest desires my son?"

Lucifer summons up all of the power he has left to keep her out. Asherah becomes infuriated by his attempt to block her. "Impudent child, you will not disobey me. I will not be turned away." She grabs his neck and chokes him until he loses consciousness for a few seconds. That's all the time she needs. Not waiting for a response, Asherah enters Lucifer's heart and mind with searing pain and rips out his deepest desires.

Now that she's gotten what she wanted from deep inside of him, she smacked him back to consciousness.

Trailing her claw along his chin, she grins wickedly, "well, well, so, you've fallen prey to a mortal woman and her spawn, and you think you can protect them from me. Good luck with that Lucifer. With a big smile opening on her face, Asherah goes in for the final barb:

"And—you are finding yourself inexplicably enthralled by me, apparently sex with me is all-consuming—I'm like heroin to you—you are finding yourself addicted to me. Hmm, isn't that your line?"

"This is only the beginning my son. I'm never going back to hell. I'm going to wipe you off of the face of the earth. I will take away everyone and everything that you have come to hold dear during your oh so very short time on the earthly plane. And when I'm done, I will extinguish you and delight in watching the light drain from your eyes as I rip your heart out."

Looking up at the sky, Asherah chirps "Ok honey? How's it going up there, in heaven? Good, good. Oh, and sweetheart, just to let you know, in case you weren't listening in on my earlier conversation with Lucifer. I plan on obliterating your precious son from your almighty universe. I will squelch this brief flirtation with humanity that he is currently engaged in and sink any hopes he may harbor of divine redemption.

Unless, you should change your mind, and decide to take him back up there with you…Oh, right, I remember now, God never, ever, apologizes or changes his mind. How's that working out for you…Honey?" She smiles and blows him a kiss…

In the meantime, the goddess hadn't noticed Amenadiel and Maze standing at the entrance to the bedroom. The angel and the demon were both stunned at her hellish appearance, but they quickly regained their composure.

Amenadiel ran over and pushed Asherah off of Lucifer. "Are you completely mad? Look at what you've done to him! Get out—get out now! He screamed.

Asherah cackles madly and disappears into thin air.

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Lucifer who is now almost completely paralyzed from the venom had gathered himself into a curled up fetal positon. Barely breathing, his eyes are wild and unfocused. He is utterly broken and lost. He wishes Asherah had killed him just now and gotten it over with.

He cannot focus because his mind is but a burning jumble after Asherah forced her way in and ripped out his innermost thoughts and desires. His heart is in pieces. Right now, he wishes he had never existed—on any plane, earthly or otherwise.

One of his wings was unfurled and sticking out at an odd angle, it looked like it might be broken. The other wing appeared to have been yanked so hard, that it hung lifelessly by a thread, from the ripped up old scar on his back: he was bleeding out. Now completely paralyzed by the venom, Lucifer couldn't keep his eyes open, and he could barely speak audibly.

Amenadiel picks up his battered brother from the floor and carries him back to his bed. Lucifer fell limp in his arms, barely conscious, he looks up at the angel, and mouths his words scarcely above a whisper:

"Amenadiel…why? Why did you not come and help me? Do you hate me that much? You left me alone to face her…"

Lucifer's words stab at Amenadiel, tearing up, he blurts out, "I did not recognize your prayer brother, it was too weak, too faint for me to hear. I thought it was just the same angel chat that goes on in the background our minds. I should have known. I should have come back. I really never should have left you alone in the first place."

Looking down at his brother who looked as white as a sheet, his face was so beaten up and swollen that he was unrecognizable. His body was covered in scratches and bruises. His breathing was ragged, shallow, and dangerously faint.

Holding Lucifer's hand over his chest, Amenadiel began to sob. "I'm so selfish—may God help me."

Delirious with pain, Lucifer shudders and convulses, uttering strangling sounds from his throat, he whispers, "I'm so cold."

His eyes dart around the room and fix on Amenadiel. At first, they flash angry red at him, then they retreat to impenetrable black pools of sadness and hurt.

"Amenadiel…she has destroyed me…I was not prepared…"

Panting, he lets out a moan and passes out.

Maze looked up at Amenadiel with a look of panic—he's dying! She's beaten him so badly that he might die of internal injuries or of all this blood he's lost.

His wings are unfurled, so we can't take him to the hospital…what about your brothers…can't Raphael do something for him?

"Unfortunately, Michael won't let Raphael even attempt to heal Lucifer, he hates him so much, that he'd rather see him die—the more painful the death, the better."

"I have an idea," Maze speaks up, "but before you shoot it down, I think it is our last, best, resort."

"What do you have in mind?" the angel says shakily, "if we don't do something soon, we are going to lose him."

"I know of a doctor…"

"Oh, and I suppose he's an angelologist."

"Look, do you want your brother to die? This doctor is supposed to be brilliant …"

"Uh, huh, and how do we explain those," pointing at Lucifer's mutilated wings…

"He's discrete and holds doctor-patient confidentiality sacred. Besides, this doctor is the only one in all of LA, who makes house calls for any kind of treatment"

"Amenadiel, we don't have time to think on this, we've got to hurry, we've got to save Lucifer."

Not waiting for an answer from the angel, Maze cries out, "You just keep on thinking…I'll be right back; I'm going to make a phone call…"

Lucifer lay in a halo of his blood, spreading on the mattress, his bloodied wings hung lifeless behind him. He could barely breathe from the sharp pain coming from his chest.

He knew he was dying, he hadn't expected that. He thought he was preparing for battle. But that was never the case. Asherah did not want a war, she wanted to annihilate the one—him. He never had a chance against her. How could his Father send him into this knowing she would utterly destroy him—again!

He was ready to go—to be ended, to be sent off into oblivion. The way he felt right now: it was welcome.

His breath fading…Lucifer was slipping away…


	11. Chapter 11: Circling The Drain

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N: After Asherah has punished Lucifer, he hangs on to life by a thread. Maze frantically tries to save her master by calling in a doctor who frequently practices beyond the realm of regular medical procedures. The doctor, despite having his own demons that nip at his heels in the form of narcotics and alcohol—is just what the devil needs. Amenadiel comes to the rescue, but Luci may not yet, be out of the woods

Chapter 11 Circling The Drain

Hands trembling, Maze tries to quash the panic and dread that seem to have overcome her. "Where is it?" Dresser drawers slam open and shut, frustrated, she sweeps everything off of her dresser, sending her personal effects flying. Keys, jewelry, and coins, clang against the marble floor, rolling and sliding, into every direction.

"Think Maze, where did you put that card?" she hisses. Catching a glance at herself in the mirror above the dresser, she notices tears running down her face. "Demons don't cry," she tries to convince herself before she lets out a sob, and then another. What would she do without him? He is her everything.

"Ahh, there It is!" she cries. The card had jammed between the wood frame and the beveled glass of the mirror. Snatching the conservatively engraved business card, like it was a precious sliver of gold, she hurriedly, taps in the phone number on her cell.

"Is this the office of Dr. Rush? Good, we have a terrible emergency here and need the doctor to come right away. Yes, yes, I know what his fee is; cash is not a problem. Who is it? The club owner of Lux, Lucifer Morningstar. Someone brutally attacked him, he's lost a lot of blood, and there are some—extenuating circumstances about him that will require the utmost discretion and attention: this is an unusual case. "

"Yes, I realize that all of his cases have extenuating circumstances and that is why we are calling. If we don't get some help soon, he's going to die." Maze is so upset that her voice breaks, " Yes, we are in the penthouse at the club. You say he can be here in ten minutes? I hope he can make it to then. Just have the doctor use the private elevator, it comes right up to the penthouse. We'll see him soon."

Maze sprints back to the penthouse to find Amenadiel cradling his brother in his arms and crying.

"Is he dead?" she screams

"No, not yet, but I fear it's coming soon, and I don't want him to die, to feel alone and unloved. It's bad enough that we were not around when Asherah beat him to a pulp. He thinks I abandoned him on purpose because I want him to die and go back to hell. If he dies now and does go back, I'll never forgive myself."

Fighting back the tears, the angel attempts to regain his composure, "Did you get to call that doctor?"

"Yes, he's on his way, he should be here soon." The demon sniffles, fighting back a crying jag.

"How did you find out about this doctor? I would guess that there's no listing in the yellow pages under _house calls_ ," the angel frowns with disapproval.

"Ok, Amenadiel, it turns out that he found me. He was at the bar a few weeks ago, and he gave me his card. I thought he was hitting on me, and maybe he was; but, it turns out that he is a real doctor. This guy's not just your run-of-the-mill physician; it seems that he is a very exclusive L.A. concierge doctor who treats the rich and famous, and, notorious criminals, or anyone else, who can't just walk into a hospital without the attention of the press or the cops. He's supposed to be brilliant, but he's eccentric and apparently addicted to the drugs he administers."

"Oh, great, he sounds like Lucifer, with a medical license." Amenadiel quips with a frown.

Maze, remembering that the doctor, was indeed, a dead-ringer, for Lucifer, "yeah, you don't know how right you are."

"Try not to fret too much, Amenadiel, I know that you are hurting, right now, but we've got to be strong, for Lucifer's sake. Rubbing the back of his well-knit neck, Maze tries her best to reassure the worried angel, "the doctor is coming; he should be here any minute now."

A small sigh escapes Amenadiel's mouth, as he arches his neck toward Maze. He hadn't realized how painfully stiff it had become. "What did you say this doctor's name was?"

"His name is Will Rush, and his fee is twenty thousand dollars—in cash, to keep his patients off the radar. I've got to go downstairs to the safe and get the money out before he gets here. Amenadiel, go watch over your brother."

Lying on his blood-soaked mattress, Lucifer is struggling to breathe; strange gurgling sounds come up from his chest and strangle in his throat. His temperature has plummeted. Amenadiel covers his brother's shuddering body with a heavy blanket, in an attempt to warm him; but, Lucifer continues to shiver from the cold, and pain, that rack his broken body. Fighting back the tears, he cries into his brother's ear, "please Luci, try to hold on just a little while longer; help is on the way."

Holding a bag of cash in each hand, Maze scurries back into the penthouse to find Amenadiel bent over Lucifer. Frozen with fear, she drops the bags to the floor, and steels herself for the worst, "is he…?"

Amenadiel doesn't take his eyes off of Lucifer, when he whispers, "no, he's still with us, but not for much longer. He's barely breathing now." The devil looks frail wrapped in the embrace of his brother's muscular, burnished, brown-skinned arms.

The whole scene is surreal: bloody sheets, towels, and clothes encircle Lucifer's bed. Blood soaks the mattress and bloodies his wings. Lucifer looks like a wrecked angel that fell from the sky and crash landed.

Maze hears the elevator approaching the floor, "he's here! I hope he's not too late."

I'm Not a Veterinarian

The lift's door slides open and in walks Dr. Will Rush. He's wearing shades, a pale blue shirt, and a light gray suit. Not quite the Armani suits and Prada shirts of Lucifer's taste, but still quite fashionable. At six foot three inches, the good doctor is the same height and build as his patient lying in the next room. His resemblance to the devil is uncanny; he could be his doppelganger. Carrying several leather satchels and a briefcase; he seems prepared.

Carefully treading over all of the broken glass, the doctor removes his sunglasses, to have a better look around at the wrecked penthouse; he says to himself, "what the f- is this place?"

"Hello?" He calls out.

"We're up here doctor," Maze urges him, "please hurry!"

Quickly climbing the marble steps leading to Lucifer's bedroom, Rush passes through the two carved stone columns with strange hieroglyphs, and symbols, that stand at the entrance of the room, and on the stone wall behind the bed.

Nothing, in all of the time he'd been treating clandestine characters, who've been shot, stabbed, maimed, drugged—you name it, had he ever come across a scene like the one before him.

The room was total bedlam. The walls sported gaping holes of crumbling plaster, smashed stone, and splintered wood lath, from where Asherah had tossed Lucifer around, like a plaything. A whole bank of windows leading to the terrace lay in piles of shards. Blood is everywhere, small puddles on the floor with trails traced from the tips of Lucifer's lifeless wings. More blood drips down the walls and soaks into the piles of towels and bedding in heaps around the imposing centerpiece of Lucifer's huge bed.

Standing in the middle of the hellish scene, Rush freezes up; his eyes come to rest on Amenadiel cradling the limp, broken body of a man who was wearing—angel wings.

Clearly astounded, Rush yells out, "Jesus Christ! What the hell is this? Is he into cosplay? Did he try to jump off of the building?

Carefully lowering the body of his brother, back down on the bed, Amenadiel turns to face the doctor. Looking from the doctor, back to Maze a couple of times, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him.

Observing Amenadiel's reaction, Maze, lightly touches his arm and whispers in his ear, "I know, the resemblance is almost eerie."

"Maze, why didn't you tell me?" he whispers under his breath.

"I didn't have time to explain." the demon snaps back. "Besides, what difference does it make?"

Meanwhile, Rush's apprehension builds, "Help me out here guys; time is of the essence, and he doesn't have much left. Can either of you please explain to me how all of this happened?"

"Um, we are not at liberty to discuss how it happened. Let's just say; it is a _family_ affair. What difference does it make how it happened? Can't you see how badly he's been beaten up?" Amenadiel pleads.

"Alright, if you insist, but the more information I have, the faster I can get down to treating him." Kneeling beside Lucifer, Rush listens to his heart and lungs through a stethoscope; quickly trying to assess his vital signs.

"His pulse is slow, and his breathing is very shallow. His lungs sound like they have fluid inside—probably as a result of a puncture from one of his broken ribs."

"Is that a snake bite on his chest? Do you know what kind of snake bit him?"

"Yes, we do, and it should be wearing off soon."

Giving Amenadiel a sideways glare, Rush wonders, "Why? Did you give him an antidote?"

Regarding the doctor suspiciously, Amenadiel screws his face into a frown, "Um, not exactly…"

"Uh, huh," Rush muses, "he's bleeding out from somewhere, it's coming from his back; let's turn him over."

Maze and Amenadiel, eyeing each other, cringe, in anticipation of the doctor's reaction to Lucifer's wings.

Amenadiel helps Rush lift and turn the battered body of Lucifer onto his stomach.

Lucifer cries out in pain and moans as they lay him out.

The doctor's reaction to Lucifer's wings is immediate. His eyes grow huge at what he sees before him. "Holy shit! These aren't armatures; they are actual appendages! They aren't implants, or sewn on; they are anatomical! Are you kidding me?"

"What do you expect me to do with these, I'm not a veterinarian." He complains to the angel.

"Doctor," Amenadiel implores, "Can't you see how much pain he's in, isn't there something you can do for him?"

The doctor, while clearly perplexed by his patient, finds himself, weirdly fascinated by the creature before him. "He looks like he fell from the sky. He's not…He can't be; you know—an angel?"

Probing into the open wound where the wing was nearly torn off, Rush becomes engrossed by the elaborate nature of these feather-covered limbs. They are physiological appendages; real functioning wings, whose complex anatomy allowed for the incredible strength and power, to propel a body to fly through the air. Carefully feeling the bone structure of the wing hanging at a strange angle, the doctor was able to surmise that it was dislocated and not broken.

"Looking over at Amenadiel," Rush asks for his help, again. "Can you please hold down his shoulder so I can get some leverage on this."

Pushing hard and fast on the joint makes Lucifer scream in pain. Rush, who's forehead is beaded with sweat from the effort, applies another short hard push; that pops the joint back in place; eliciting a loud grunt from his patient. The repaired wing flutters for a few minutes, before folding down to a semi-unfurled position. After wiping the sweat from his brow, the doctor looks satisfied that he's fixed the wing. Now, on to the other more serious injury.

Rush was clearly starting to feel the effects of handling Lucifer's wings in such an intimate manner. He seemed to be fighting off the euphoric feelings that one experiences after holding a single feather. In this case, he'd held an entire wing. Closing his eyes, he tried to fight it off by taking a few deep breaths.

"Are you all right doctor?" Maze inquired sincerely

"I'm fine." He tried to convince himself, but his hands were shaking.

Taking another deep breath, he nodded, "Ok, let's stop this bleeding. I'm going to stitch this up after I give him a couple of shots of local anesthesia. These shots should mask the pain of the stitches for a few hours."

While waiting for the shots to take effect, Rush examines the tear more closely. "This wing looks like someone tried to rip it off. That had to hurt. There's an old scar here, it's deep beneath the new one, and that's what has re-opened; it looks pretty nasty. I'm going to clean the wound out thoroughly before I sew it up, to prevent infection."

"The Doc seems to be taking all of the "wing issues" in stride," Amenadiel mutters to Maze under his breath.

Lucifer required over fifty stitches to close the wound back up. About half way through, Rush's hands start to shake again, and he seems to have trouble concentrating. Without removing his hands from the details of stitching up the devil, Rush asks Maze to bring his doctor's bag over to him. "Now, open it, take out that orange bottle, and pour out three pills. Can I ask you to please pop them into my mouth and give me a small bit of water?"

Maze obliges and tries not to choke him while she pours water down his throat.

The narcotic began to take effect within seconds, Rush's breathing calmed, and his hands stopped shaking. Picking up where he'd left off, he seemed to have found his sure hand at masterfully finishing stitching Lucifer up. Admiring his handiwork, the noticeably high physician, seemed a lot calmer. "Well, that ought to stop the bleeding, at least here." He murmured. "Alright, can you help me to turn him over on his back now, I need to see what else this guy has going on."

Maze caught that comment, "what do you mean by _stopping the bleeding at least here_."

Before answering the demon, he looks up at her, much like her master, with the same playful look in his eyes, "I could use a drink, right about now; could you get me a shot of whiskey—any kind will do, but, I tend to prefer bourbon."

Briefly disappearing from the room, Maze rummages through the broken bottles piled up on the still wrecked, back-bar, when she finds an unscathed bottle of—rye. "Oh, well, this will have to do." Grabbing two glasses, she returns to the bedroom with the bottle in hand.

The demon plunks the glasses down before the doctor, pouring out a few fingers worth into them; "we don't have any bourbon at the moment, how about some rye?"

Both Maze and Rush are in need of a drink, so they gulp one down together.

Licking the spicy amber liquor from her lips, "Better now, doctor?"

"Yes, much better. By the way, Maze, that is really good rye."

"It should be, Doc; it comes from Lucifer's private reserves, and it's probably the only bottle that's not broken in the entire place."

"Now back to Lucifer," the demon demands.

"Well, judging from the severity of the beating and the amount of bruising forming this fast, there is no way that internal bleeding and additional internal injuries aren't taking place. I mean, it's pretty obvious that he has a broken nose and his jaw is in pretty bad shape. His eyes are swelled up, but they will be OK. What are these red hand marks on his neck, it looks like someone tried to strangle him?"

"Now for the serious stuff. Our patient has several broken and cracked ribs that need setting. They have probably punctured some surrounding organs like his lungs and or spleen. He's going to have to go to a hospital for that, as I can't practice full surgery here."

"You should get him to a hospital right away because he's circling the drain right now. He's lost so much blood; that I'm afraid he wouldn't make it through the ambulance ride."

"What? After all of that, he's not going to make it?" Maze cries.

Looking at his patient, Rush was making some obvious connections; it could be him lying there, so badly beaten, since he lives hard and plays harder. He was getting a curious vibe from this guy like he knew him from somewhere. Lucifer's face had taken such a beating that he is unrecognizable, but his body, his hands, and his hair were troublingly similar—enough to send chills down Rush's spine.

Don't Try This At Home

"Well, there is something that I've had success with before, but I need someone who has the same blood type: I could perform a person to person blood transfusion. Do either of you share the same blood type as him?"

Brightening, Amenadiel spoke up, "I do. I'm his brother."

"Oh, um, ok…you are his— _biological_ brother?"

"Why yes, of course, I am," he answered puzzled, not having any idea why the doctor would even question that they were brothers.

Sighing deeply, Rush says, "OK, but you better be sure, because if it isn't a positive match, he'll die while I'm still working on him, and if that happens, it will just ruin my day."

"I like how you think Doc! But don't worry, Maze assures him, they share the same blood type."

"OK, let me set this up. I'm warning you, this can be pretty primitive, but if it works, it will stabilize your brother—for a while." The doctor prepares a tube with a shunt in at either end.

"Amenadiel—is that how to pronounce your name?"

Allowing himself to smile for the first time since this ordeal began, Amenadiel answers, "why yes doctor, thanks for asking."

"Amenadiel, please sit up here on the bed next to your brother…now turn your left arm over palm side up…like this…good." Rush takes Lucifer's right arm and positions it the same way, only lower than Amenadiel's. "Ok, now we are going to let your heart act as a natural pump and let gravity do the rest of the work." Placing a shunt into one of Lucifer's veins first, and then placing the shunt at the other end of the tube into Amenadiel's vein; the blood immediately flows down the tube into Lucifer's arm.

Fascinated by the entire procedure, Amenadiel asks Rush, "how will you know when to stop?"

Rush cracked, "you'll see. When it happens, it will happen fast."

Lucifer was lying deathly still, his breathing barely audible, he'd turned ghostly pale. Was it too late to pull him back to the world of the living?

Rush knew this procedure was fraught with risk, but before the nineteenth century, it was the only way to give someone a blood transfusion. In modern times, a person to person blood transfusions was something quite outside of the realm of regular medical procedure. But, _thinking and acting outside of regular medical procedure_ was Rush's expertise, and, he'd had success with this procedure in the past. Besides, he did not expect his patient to survive, so he had nothing to lose in giving it a shot.

Suddenly, Lucifer takes in a loud breath and gulps for air.

"And—that—is the sign we're looking for; now we know he's had enough." The doctor genuinely smiles, for the first time that day.

Lucifer's eyes finally blink open and his gaze locks on the doctor. A look of sheer terror comes over him, his eyes grow wide with fear. He still can't talk or move, but his eyes say it all—he is terrified. Recognizing the doctor as the mirror image of himself, he believes that the doctor is not real—Did Asherah put him there? Had she cast some strange spell on him?

The paralyzed angel's breathing quickens, trying to shrink away, he pushes his head back into the pillow. He cannot move a muscle. Lucifer tries to blink the vision of himself away; his eyes flicker fiery red before he passes out.

"Rush jumps back in fear. What the f- was that?"

"What?" Maze and Amenadiel fake innocence, "we didn't see anything…"

"You didn't see his eyes change color? This…this thing, is not human—is it?" Rush's voice was hoarse; he was working on adrenaline now. Maybe he was dreaming—this could not be _real._

Rush had felt two distinctly yet powerful feelings from this patient. After he'd worked on his wings, he had felt strangely warm, peaceful and calm. He'd thought about God for the first time in decades. But what he had just felt now, was sheer power, infernal power, even half dead; this guy is formidable.

Lucifer opened his eyes again, this time they were black, with no hint of red. He began to shudder; he thought Rush was one of Asherah's demons who'd come to finish him off at his weakest.

Rush gave him a stiff sedative to calm him down. Now, that should hold him nicely for a bit. Snapping off his latex gloves, he announces, "I've done all that I can for him, at least now he won't bleed to death. But, you must get him to a hospital, he is suffering from significant internal bleeding, and if left untreated, you'll have wasted all of the cash you're going to pay me for my work because he will die.

Putting away his tools, he becomes business-like: "payment please?"

"Sure, Doc," Maze hands him the bags of cash containing the amount that he'd stipulated.

Taking another look around the room, and looking at the "angel" on the bed that he'd just treated, he asks Amenadiel, "who is this guy?"

Maze steps up and answers, "he's Lucifer Morningstar, the owner of this club."

"Hmm, yes," Rush murmurs, "I've heard of him. He's the guy who grants special favors; some say that he's the devil…Hey, wait a minute, where did his wings go? They've disappeared!"

"Convinced that Lucifer is some supernatural freak," Rush jumps back from him and raises his hands in surrender. "F-! This is just too weird–even for me…please, get him to a hospital."

Grabbing his bags of cash, while trying to make a quick exit out of the wrecked apartment; Rush asks Maze, "how did you find me?"

Maze smiling wickedly, showing off her sharp demon teeth, "you gave me your card when I was bartending at the club a few weeks ago."

Continuing down the stairs, he pauses, and looks over at Lucifer, Maze, and Amenadiel; without skipping a beat, he says, "Oh, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure Doc, what can I do for you?" Maze breaks out into a wicked grin.

"Go find my card and— _burn it!"_

With that, he turns on his heels, puts his shades back on, and quickly strides over to the elevator, which was thankfully, still on the floor. The door slides shut, and he disappears.

After the doctor left, Maze and Amenadiel stand on either side of the bed and observe Lucifer's condition.

"He looks a little better; like he has some life left in him." Amenadiel whispers, "But, he's still breathing hard and noises are still coming from his chest. It looks like he's having a hard time getting enough air into his lungs. I don't think he's out of the woods yet."

Downing another couple of glasses of rye, the demon observes, "The venom should be wearing off by now, but the Doc did shoot him up with some pretty powerful narcotics to alleviate the pain and anxiety—Lucifer would approve of the narcotics…

The stress of it all was too much for Amenadiel, "I need some air." Stepping out onto the terrace, he is quickly followed by Maze.

Both come face to face with the _tree_ for the first time.

"What the hell," Maze blurts out, "where did that come from?"

Standing under the tree, they could both feel the energy coming off of it; this was no ordinary tree—it has serious mojo to it.

"I like it," Maze winks, but when she tries to touch the strange carvings on the tree trunk, her fingers get burned. Quickly, she pulls away her hand, "Ow, what the hell!"

"I recognize this tree," the angel smiles, "there are many like it at home—in heaven. It's called the Tree of Life. This one looks like it belongs to Asherah. The carvings on it, are hers. The Tree of Life, the serpent, and the lion are all her symbols. This tree is her idol. It is a sacred tree; that is why it burned you when you touched it little demon."

Still visibly pissed, Maze continues to curse out the tree, "stupid tree, what are we going to do with this?"

"I fear we can do nothing with this tree right now. This is Asherah's tree, and she placed it here to claim Lucifer symbolically. She might be up in there as we speak, Amenadiel's eyes trace up the tree's trunk to its crown. "I feel her presence here, very strongly."

"Never mind the tree," Maze hisses, "What are we going to do with Lucifer. His wings are in, should we take him to the hospital?"

Sighing at the weight of the decision, Amenadiel nixes the idea. "I hesitate to take him there because it will be one of the first places Asherah searches for him. She will assume we've taken him there. And then, there's the issue with the detective. Lucifer needs rest and time to recuperate. If she is around, his wounds will not heal."

"We've got to get him to a place where he will be safe so that he can recover."

"I know exactly where to take him," the angel smiles broadly,

"Oh, on a trip to Hawaii?" Maze wise-cracks.

"No, nothing quite that exotic," little demon, "how about my place? It's off the beaten path, and it will take Asherah a while to figure out that he's with me. Besides, it will also take a while to restore the penthouse back to its former condition."

Amenadiel, "that's a brilliant idea! It will keep both of the medaling women in Lucifer's life, away from him, so that he can get better—I like it!"

Pleased To Meet You…

Meanwhile, the elevator reaches the ground floor. Anxious to put as much distance as possible between the patient he'd just treated and himself, Rush dashes out of the elevator as soon as the door slides open. Without looking where he was going, he smacks right into another party who is in a hurry: Chloe.

The collision between the two, causes the doctor to drop his satchels and bags of cash; littering the elevator floor with bundles of cash, bottles of narcotics and syringes.

"Oh, I'm sorry; please let me help you." Dropping to her knees; Chloe's face meets his. "Lucifer, is that you?" she looks surprised.

Rush, having gathered all of the dropped items, stands up stiffly to face Chloe. "Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else."

Chloe found herself awkwardly staring at the man who looked just like Lucifer—but did not sound like him. His voice was different, and he didn't have a British accent.

Straightening the cuffs of his suit jacket, in a manner the mirrors Lucifer, Rush takes off his sunglasses and offers Chloe a handshake.

"I'm Doctor Will Rush, and you are?"

He had the same mega white smile and flirty twinkling eyes as Lucifer, Chloe blinks at him, "Hi, I'm Detective Chloe Decker."

"Pleased to meet you, detective, thanks for helping me; have a nice day."

Chloe wondered what was going on up there. What were they up to now, and how did this _Rush_ guy fit into it? Pressing the button to the penthouse, she waited patiently for the elevator to rise to its destination.

Stepping out onto the glass covered floor, she could see that nothing had been done to clean up the penthouse yet.

"Hello…is anybody home?" No answer. Hmmm, I wonder what they are up to; where are they? Why was the doctor in such a hurry to leave? And, what was all of that cash he was carrying?

"Lucifer," she called…no answer there either, so she decides to let herself into his bedroom. As soon as she reaches the top of the stairs to his room, she stares in disbelief at what she sees. The scene was more horrific now than it was less than twenty-four hours ago when she was last here. Blood was everywhere, giant holes in the walls, rubble, and more broken windows. Had Lucifer and Amenadiel gotten into another fight?

Lucifer was in his bed, wrapped in a blood-soaked, blanket; he lay quite still. Only his heaving chest moved, rising and falling. Strange wheezing and gurgling sounds came from his throat.

Quietly, Chloe walked over to him and gasped at what she saw.

His face, beaten to a pulp, rendered him unrecognizable. There were bright red hand marks on his neck like someone had tried to strangle him. Gingerly, Chloe, pulled the blanket down to his waist, revealing the deep, dual wounds of the snake bite and all of the bruisings from the broken and cracked ribs.

Grabbing his cold, limp hand, she tried to rub some warmth into it.

"Oh my God Lucifer, who did this to you?" she sobbed.

"Lucifer," she touches his cheek, "come back, please, come back."

His eyes flutter open, and he looks straight at her with a small smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes say it all; that look of love and affection shines through. Unfortunately, the moment doesn't last long before Lucifer falls back into unconsciousness.

Chloe is alone in the room with him, holding his hand and crying when Maze and Amenadiel walk back into the room from the terrace.

"What went on in here," Chloe snaps, "Lucifer's in shock. He needs to go to the hospital—now. What was that doctor doing scurrying out of here with all of those bags of cash; what did you pay him for?"

Amenadiel, taking charge of the situation, answered her earnestly, "He's not going to the hospital, and we can't discuss what happened here. Let's just say; it was a _family issue_."

"What?" Amenadiel, "I can't accept that answer."

With a sigh of exasperation, Amenadiel chooses his words carefully, "Look, Chloe, there are some things about Lucifer that we can't explain to you at the moment. And, right now, we must do what is right for him; to keep him safe and let him recover—our way.

With that, everything in the room blew around, and Lucifer and Amenadiel disappeared into thin air. Only the curtains still blew in the wind.

Chloe, stunned by what had just happened, ripped into Maze, "where did he go; what did you do to him?"

"Don't worry, Decker, he's in a safe place—he will be fine."

"Please Maze," she sobs, "please tell me who did this to him?"

Taking a rare moment of pity upon the detective, Maze hisses, "I'm not going to lie: Asherah, his mother came back to punish him for locking her up in hell for millennia."

Lucifer had told Chloe that his mother had escaped hell, but nevertheless, she could not wrap her head around it all.

Fuming, Chloe threatens Maze, "If anything happens to him…"

Sneering at the blubbering human, Maze taunts her, "Or what, you'll arrest us? I don't think so."

Look, detective, I will keep you updated on his progress. Until he returns here, I would just stay home if I were you. There's nothing you can do for him, right now."

Chloe turns on her heels and storms out. Maze and Amenadiel were so exasperating and secretive; leaving her in the dark about Lucifer.

She ponders that last moment that she'd spent with Lucifer; she couldn't shake the image of his gaze of love and affection: before they tore him away from her.

In The Nick Of Time

Seconds later, Amenadiel arrives at his apartment with Lucifer and lays him out on his bed. The venom is starting to wear off, he can barely speak, but he still can't move.

Amenadiel pulls a down comforter over, his frail brother. He knows Lucifer is still cold because he's shivering.

His voice at a whisper, Lucifer tugs at his brother's sleeve with his fingertips, "Amenadiel, thank you…for bringing me here…I'm so tired…I'm sorry." The devil passes out.

Settling in, Amenadiel sleeps on the floor next to the bed.

A few hours pass by while the two brothers sleep peacefully…

Suddenly, Lucifer wakes up in a panic: "I can't breathe!"


	12. Chapter 12: Refuge

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N: Lucifer takes a sudden turn for the worst when complications arise from his injuries. God intervenes and saves his son in the nick of time.

Lucifer tells Amenadiel the truth about what happened between Asherah and him.

Asherah's interference with his psyche materializes, as he heads towards a mental breakdown. Haunted by hallucinations from his past, Lucifer finds that some have frighteningly real consequences.

Making a memorable entrance flying back to Lux, he heads straight to the bar for a drink. Maze appears and forbids him to smoke.

As he enters the ruins of the bedroom, everything comes down to bear on him. Asherah appears to him and puts him over the edge.

Lucifer takes off again, for parts unknown—as he slowly descends into madness.

Sorry, I missed last week, but I was under the weather. This chapter was so long that I had to cut it in half.

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

Chapter 12: Refuge

"Amenadiel! Help…me…I…can't…breathe." Scrambling to his feet, the angel rushes over to Lucifer's side to see that his face has now turned ghostly ashen and his lips are tinged blue. Lucifer, staring up at his brother, clutches at his chest in agony; he's barely able to breathe, without great difficulty and pain. Awful wheezing and gurgling sounds come from his throat, causing him to cough up blood that trickles down the side of his mouth. When Lucifer notices that his fingertips have taken on a deathly bluish cast, confirming that he cannot get enough air into his lungs; his anguished expression gives way to confusion, and anxiety, and, finally, to shock.

In desperation, Lucifer grabs onto Amenadiel's arm, "brother, pray for me." He whispers.

Tears stream down the dark angel's face, his voice falters, he tries his best to keep his brother conscious: "Luci, stay with me."

Amenadiel closes his eyes and clasps his hands together in prayer: "Father, please, don't let him die. Don't send him back to hell now. His time here is not over. I abandoned him when he needed me the most. He was unprepared to go against Asherah. Please heal him. I will never forgive myself if he dies now."

Sensing that the end is near, Lucifer clutches Amenadiel's hand and presses it over his heart. His chest heaves, while his breaths decrease to near absence. His oxygen deprived lungs are failing. He's lightheaded from trying to breathe and exhausted from the effort. Darkness wells up at the periphery of his vision. The light is fading from his eyes—he can't keep them open.

Lucifer summons the last bit of strength that he has to turn his eyes heavenward: He calls upon his Father, "don't let her win." He murmurs.

The effect is immediate: God answers the prayers of his sons and returns Lucifer to the living. The ethereal voice of his Father utters a single word, Lucifer's given name: "Samael." His breath fills the lungs of his son with air while He touches his chest with a warm, golden, glow. The light grows to envelop both of the angels until it dims and disappears. It only lasts a few seconds, but the warmth and love that radiates from it, leaves the two brothers rejoicing. Eternities had come and gone since Lucifer last heard his Father or felt His touch, yet, it was still as familiar as if the last time it happened; had been but yesterday.

With a wan smile that curls at the corners of his mouth, Lucifer says, "Amenadiel, thank you for your prayers, I think I'm going to be fine. But…I am so exhausted…I'm sorry…so tired." He passes out and falls into a fitful sleep.

With a new sense of spiritual invigoration, Amenadiel bends over his sleeping brother and continues to pray for his speedy recovery.

Remembrance of Things Past

Lucifer slept a deep, dreamless sleep, enveloped in the soft warmth of his wings. He had already slept through an entire day and night. The sheer trauma he'd suffered to his body had left him in a state of utter exhaustion, so much so, that every time he tried to open his eyes, his lids felt so heavy that he hadn't the strength to lift them. Amenadiel's soft, comfortable bed had lulled him into a much-needed respite.

Off in the corner of the room, near a sunny, south-facing window, Amenadiel, sat on the floor reading a book while his brother slept. Savoring the moments of quiet, before Lucifer would awake and submit him to his exuberant chattiness, Amenadiel found himself looking forward to his brother's talkativeness—even if it did annoy him at times. He was so happy to have him back.

As he is climbing back up from the depths of his slumber, Lucifer's breathing begins to quicken. His head moves side to side and his face flushes. The peaceful, dreamless sleep that he has been enjoying begins to break down as long repressed memories filter back up through his mind.

Images of one of the most unspeakable acts ever committed on him begin to flash behind his closed eyes. Starting to breathe hard and fast, he thrashes around and starts to moan. He seems to be having a bad dream, but this is not a dream; Lucifer is relieving the violent assault of his rape.

Whimpers build into desperate cries, Lucifer pleads: "Asherah, please—don't. No, please stop. No…no!" Taking a sharp breath, he sits straight up, his eyes open wide with terror, his hands clutching at his temples. Now fully awake, the devil attempts to push the bad memory back down to where it resides, where he can bury it deep inside of himself.

Placing a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, Amenadiel chuckles, "Whoa, there Luci, having a rough start coming back to the world of the living?"

Looking up at his brother, Lucifer answers him with a beaming smile, "well, good morning to you too—Mr. Sunshine. I have to admit I did sleep like a rock on your very comfy bed."

"I'll say you did; you slept for almost two days. It seems to have done you a lot of good. Most of the bruising and swelling have gone down, and your face is recognizable again."

Unfurling his wings, Lucifer yawns and stretches out, "I could go for a smoke right about now…"

"After what you've just been through, don't you think you should give your lungs a bit more rest before starting to smoke again?"

"You needn't worry brother I'm going to be just fine. You've already kept such good care of me. Besides, I have an awful headache. Maybe, I'm going through withdrawal?"

Lucifer downplayed his headache; it was quite more intensely painful than he'd let on. The images of his rape still occupy his mind; he cannot seem to repress them. He wonders if Asherah did mess with his head by forcing her way in, to take what she wanted and wring out what remained. The devil feels as if she's opened his mind up _like a can of worms_.

Sitting up against the headboard with his arms crossed behind his head, Lucifer takes in the room and says with a small smile, "I love what you've done to the place."

"You've never been here," Amenadiel laughs,

Continuing the brotherly banter, Lucifer observes, "it's so bright and light and pure—like you brother." He continues, "it's a touch spare, a bit on the monastic side what with your divine sword and armor piled in the corner."

"Hmm, what about this big comfy four post bed in the middle of the room, and all of those candles on the mantle—do I detect a woman's touch?"

"Or, more to the point," he laughs naughtily, "a demon's touch?"

Amenadiel doesn't answer his brother's inquiries with words—just with a very broad smile.

"So how long have you had this place?" Lucifer continues his interrogation.

"Since Father sent me to L.A. to bring you back to hell—a little over five years."

"Ah, and did you have this bed then," Lucifer asks mischievously.

"No."

"Of course not," Lucifer continues, "nor did you have the candles."

"That's right."

"So you slept on the floor, brother."

"Yes, yes, I did. (growing a bit impatient) I'm a warrior Luci; you know that I don't need creature comforts."

"Like me, you mean."

"Well, yes "Amenadiel continues, "but living the luxurious life is one of your traits, just as living the spartan life is one of mine."

"I'm not judging you, little bro, I'm just observing," Lucifer says with a grin. "I do appreciate you bringing me here. I think the peace and quiet of this place are just what I need at the moment."

Amenadiel takes his leave of his brother and returns to his book. Lucifer lies back on the bed and tries to deal with his escaping memories by trying to lull himself back to sleep.

Breaking the silence, Amenadiel says, "Luci, I sense bad blood between you and mom. Maze says it goes way back, but she won't tell me anything about how it came to be."

"Oh, what did Maze say about it?" Lucifer asks.

"She said that it was personal and that you'd tell me when you wanted to."

Lucifer wondered how Maze found out about his assault since he'd never told her. His head was splitting, he tried rubbing his temples, but that brought no relief. Every time he shut his eyes, the entire act played itself out over and over again; causing him to relive the pain and anguish. He turned over to face away from his brother so that Amenadiel couldn't see how much it hurt him to dredge all of this up again. On the other hand, perhaps letting it out after being burdened by it for such a long, time might help him to deal with the painful memory he was experiencing.

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"Was there any truth to all of the rumors that you'd seduced mom? The Bible says you did, and the consensus within the family, thinks that you did."

"I'm so glad that everybody seems to know all of these intimate details about our relationship," he said, with a strong note of sarcasm.

"It wouldn't be the first time that you'd seduced one of Father's most prized creations; you thought that Eve was fair game to stick it to him."

No regrets there, brother. I freely admit to tempting her—she couldn't resist me. After that incident, Father blamed me for bringing sin into the world—when it was Him who brought it upon the world. All I did was show him how fallible his human creations were.

Yeah, you showed him. So, was Asherah another notch in your belt? Was she another affront to Father?

"You want the truth Amenadiel? I'll give you the truth. For over three thousand years, only three beings have known what happened at the Temple of Babylon on that day: Dad, mom and me."

Amenadiel is skeptical about accepting God's role in all of this. Casting a questioning glare over to his brother, he accuses, "are you saying that Father knew about it?"

"He not only knew about it; he was the one who sent Gabriel down to announce that a meeting had been set up between Asherah and me at the old temple. My presence was commanded, not requested."

"I went there at the appointed time and met up with her. She pitched the cult to me; she wanted me to become _her consort and co-deity_. You know being worshiped is not my thing, and I told her that. But all of the ritualized prostitution and wanton sex she proposed was pretty tempting."

"The next thing I know, her hands are all over me. She was the one who was trying to seduce me. Believe it or not, I turned her down. I was, quite mortified and I flat out refused. There are some lines that even the devil won't cross. I couldn't afford to piss Father off more by having sex with his former wife—no matter how much she turned me on. It was not easy to resist her charms."

"Apparently, no one had ever turned her down, so she lost her temper and had her way with me. She was so self-absorbed and obsessed with getting back at dear old Dad that she decided to rape his favorite son."

"But Luci, how could she have forced you over your free-will?"

Lucifer was shaking now; he was having difficulty finding the words.

"She morphed into a giant black viper and came at me with such speed that I didn't have time to react or to protect myself. The serpent climbed my body, sinking its fangs into me as it crawled along. Within minutes, I was crumpled to the ground—paralyzed by the snake's venom. I didn't know what hit me."

"She picked me up by the neck like a rag doll and tossed me across the temple chamber onto the sacrificial altar. She tethered my hands and ripped my clothes (swallows hard). Then…she mounted me and…"

Lucifer hyperventilates now; tears are streaming down his face.

"I prayed to Father to make her stop, I begged and pleaded with him—but he turned his back on me and let her defile me—while he watched. As if he hadn't punished me enough; I didn't deserve it. They both used me as a pawn in their tug of war."

"On that day, I gave her complete power over the worship aspect of the cult. After I stumbled out of the temple, I never wanted to see her or the cult ever again. A few months later, I heard that she twisted the story about who seduced who and that she had begun to condone human sacrifices and the sacrifice of children—all under my name. She was completely out of control."

"I was so traumatized by what she'd done to me, that it took hundreds of years for me to push it all down so far into myself, that I could forget about what she'd done to me, and get on with my life. That is until today when she entered my mind a few days ago; she did something to me—to my psyche. I think she's unleashed my darkest secrets and I fear what that will do to the state of my sanity."

"Luci, I didn't know she was capable of something like this. I was always under the impression that you were the aggressor. It's hard to imagine mother as a violent rapist, who takes pleasure in defiling her son."

"Well, now you know the truth, Amenadiel. Sorry to burst your bubble regarding our mother's morals. Unfortunately, that's not the story you'll find in the Bible. They did not get it right, and once again the devil gets a bad rap for seducing his mother, and running a sex cult out of the ancient temple of Babylon."

"Mother knew how to push Dad's buttons—she still does. She used me to that end at my expense, and He let her do it. Just like He did a few days ago."

Brother, she doesn't want a war, she wants to end _me_ : to wipe me from existence— _permanently_. My death is her endgame; it's her ultimate act of revenge on Father.

"Hmm, I hadn't thought that your relationship with Father was so complex," Amenadiel murmured. "I thought it was more about the wayward son who wanted his throne, and who sought out worship over and above him. You led a rebellion, and you lost. And then he kicked you out of the house. I thought that was all there was to it. You know how Father is so rigid when it comes to these issues."

"Ah, brother," like I've always said," you are a bit simple."

"Narrowing his eyes, "Amenadiel frowns at Lucifer, "Oh really, I am simple—well…"

"Now, now," Lucifer interrupts, "Don't let that angelic ego of yours get the better of you. All of the family thinks they know the whole story of my falling out with Father, but they don't. When it comes to emotions, Dad has but a single speed. He loves you, or he hates you—forever. He doesn't forgive, and he doesn't forget. You would think our half-brother Jesus would have sent him the memo regarding the whole forgiveness bit…"

"It's funny, that His two most so-called prized creations—Mother and I, turned out so bad. Neither one of us started out that way. Mother never did anything but be the loving wife he had created her to be. And I only wanted to serve him. Father was very quick to judge both of us before he threw us out of heaven. Forever is a very, very long time, especially if you are immortal."

'Well, Luci, it's been intriguing to hear your side of the story," Amenadiel says to his brother with new found respect. "It makes me realize that everything isn't always so black and white. We are all flawed, even our Father is flawed, and even He makes decisions that He may come to regret. I also understand, a bit more about your fascination with humans and their messy little existences. We divine beings could stand to learn a lot about life and humanity from them. It helps us on our eternal path."

Lucifer, lets out a protracted sigh, "Yes, well, I'm glad to have gotten that off of my chest, but I'm afraid I'm in need of a drink right now. What do you have around?"

Looking a bit sheepish, Amenadiel admits, "Sorry Luci, Maze and I finished the last bottle yesterday."

"What? That is completely uncivilized," Lucifer admonishes, "I'm going to fly back to Lux and pick up a few bottles."

Looking over at his banged-up brother, Amenadiel becomes concerned, "um, Luci, do you think you are well enough to fly. You looked like death warmed over just short while ago. Why don't you just stay here and recuperate and I'll fly back to Lux? Besides, I'm wondering why Maze hasn't shown up here yet."

"Lucifer getting that stubbornly determined look, grits his teeth and assures Amenadiel, "really, I'm feeling much better, almost as good as new."

Before Amenadiel can stop him, Lucifer manages to wrench himself off of the bed and onto his feet. While unfurling his wings, he becomes dizzy and passes out in a tangle of limbs and feathers onto the floor.

Shaking his head, and rolling his eyes, Amenadiel smiles at his impulsive brother, and mutters under his breath, _good as new_." As he gathers the gangly angel off of the floor and plops him back on the bed, he orders: "There, now stay put!"

Lucifer is clearly exhausted and still very weak, he couldn't even stand up under the weight of his wings, let alone think he was going to fly somewhere. Amenadiel figures he's probably out for the count, so he won't be trying to fly away just yet—he hopes. In the next second, the angel is off to Lux, to find Maze and to pick up some booze. Up in the air, high over L.A. Amenadiel chuckles, "Ah, big brother, you truly are one of a kind…"

Devil's Delusions

A while later, when Lucifer regains consciousness, he experiences his first hallucination standing before him. It is the Family Killer, from thousands of years ago, who's punishers—Lucifer and Maze—gleefully put him to torture on the rack and subsequent burning off of his flesh.

Standing before Lucifer, with his palms, out in supplication, the damned soul says in a raspy whisper: "It was a mercy killing. We were all starving to death. I left my family after I'd murdered them, and then I killed myself."

The tortured soul, closed in on Lucifer, getting into his face—the burned-out holes where his eyes had once been, fixed upon the deuce. The cold stench of burnt flesh fills his nostrils; is the devil losing his taste for torture? Lucifer was horrified, that the punished soul had come back to disparage him.

"You deserved your punishment. You killed your entire family." The devil said.

"Yes, I did," the tortured soul admitted, "but not for the _inconvenience of it_ , as you put it. I loved them all. We couldn't survive our poverty. Your judgment of me was wrong!" He screams.

 _What? No, this is impossible_ ; the devil shakily admits to himself. Shutting his eyes tightly, he opens them back up to find that the damned soul is gone. His head felt like it was about to split, and his heart was pounding. " _What's happening to me?"_ He whispers.

In an attempt to calm himself, Lucifer keeps his eyes shut, while he tries to slow his breathing. Once he returns to a normal rate of breaths, he cautiously blinks his eyes open only to see a column of light shimmering next to him. Strangely curious about it, he notices a form materializing within the glow. A woman's body appears, and the devil recognizes her immediately: it is Eve. As the light falls away from her, she comes to life. With her arms extended to embrace him, she gazes deeply into Lucifer's eyes. Tears trickle down her face; she has an aura of sadness that emanates from her.

"Samael" Why? Why did you tarnish me? What had I ever done to you to deserve this fate? Did you unleash sin into the world just to avenge your Father?"

All of a sudden, her face twists into a snarl: "you brought all the evil of the world upon us, because of you, we would know suffering and death." Lunging at Lucifer, she grabs him by the neck and starts to choke him. "Now, you will know…death!"

Fighting her off, Lucifer shuts her out by closing his eyes to make her vanish. The devil rubs at the painful red welts and bruises that appear on his throat; they are evidence: proof of an actual physical attack on him. But, how can that be? Lucifer wonders.

Eve was dead and buried; she was in purgatory awaiting the end of time, to enter heaven. Would she risk that to come back down to earth to kill him?

As Eve disappears, a single pomegranate materializes from thin air, and drops down, unceremoniously, upon the head of the devil—it is her parting shot to him.

The offending pomegranate startles Lucifer, who is now afraid to open his eyes again, for fear of who or what, will appear to him. The breaching of the floodgates to his mind has unleashed a deluge of unwanted memories: the devil is now coming face to face with the consequences of his actions; he is not as infallible as he believes himself to be.

Sinking back into the pillow, Lucifer's heart pounds in his chest, he can hear it in his head. Hyperventilating has caused him to feel dizzy, and he's broken out into a cold sweat. Reliving the burning, searing pain of Asherah invading his psyche and spirit; _he believes that she has surely flipped a switch in his mind to make all of this happen now_. Thankfully, his head flops to the side, and he passes out.

Back over at Lux, Maze is meeting with contractors to repair and restore the penthouse. The stonemason wants to know about the huge holes in the solid stone wall.

Maze tells him, "they _happened_ during an epic fight between two brothers."

"Well, ma'am, those two brothers must have been superheroes to cause the kind of damage we have here."

A chuckle escapes the demon's mouth, "Yeah, you could call them superheroes, or something like that. So, when can you start?"

"It will take a few days to find the same stone that matches up with what's already here, but we can start on the rest of it in a couple of days. Can I ask you something?"

Sizing-up the strapping young Mason, Maze glares at him like he's a piece of meat, "sure, ask on."

The Mason, feeling a bit uncomfortable under her salacious glare, asks sheepishly, "what's the language chiseled on all of these stones? It looks like ancient hieroglyphics or something like that."

"Yeah, it's something like that. The language is _Celestial_ ," she said, licking her lips.

"You mean like what God and the angels speak in heaven?" The young man asked in wonderment.

 _Oh, what a buzzkill—the thrill is gone_ , the demon huffs to herself, "yes, it's like that," she snaps, "now, if you don't mind, I've got more contractors to meet with."

Sorry ma'am, the bemused Mason answered, I'll see you in a couple of days.

Feeling a bit guilty about snapping at the poor contractor, Maze softens her expression, hey, what's your name again?

"It's Thomas," he says with a half-smile, "have a good one."

The elevator arrives on the floor just as the Mason takes his leave before he enters it, the sole passenger hurriedly pushes by him.

A distracted, and determined, woman, barely acknowledges an apology for jostling the big guy, "oh, sorry," Chloe mumbled as she bounds into the penthouse.

Maze, thinking Chloe was another contractor, has her back to her.

"Why haven't you called me?" Chloe demands.

Maze's scorn is apparent, as she whirls around to meet her accuser, she says, "I told you; I would call if we needed to take him to the hospital. We didn't have to do that.

"Does that mean Lucifer is going to be okay?" Chloe asked pleadingly.

Recalling how panicked she was when she thought she might lose her master only a few days ago, Maze decides to relent—a little, towards his pet human.

The demoness, letting out an exasperated huff, says to Chloe, "We were worried for a little while that he might not pull through, but he did. Now he is recuperating and getting better and stronger each day."

"Oh, thank God. He looked like he was hanging on by a thread when I last saw him." Her voice hitched with emotion.

Maze chuckles, "well, _you_ can thank God for making it possible for him to cheat death."

Sounding more relieved, Chloe asks, when do you think he'll be coming back here?

Returning to her all-business attitude, Maze looks around the wrecked apartment and says, "not until he has healed from all of the injuries he sustained. And not until the restoration of this place is complete. I'd say, realistically, in about a month or so."

Chloe finds it disheartening that she won't see her partner for such a long time, but given the severity of his injuries and the scope of work needed to restore the penthouse, Maze's time estimate was probably spot on. Still, Chloe found herself missing Lucifer on different level—her feelings for him were growing.

"Thanks for the update Maze. Would you mind if I called you once in a while to check on his progress?"

Hearing the concern in Chloe's voice, Maze gives in, "sure."

Now that she knows Lucifer is alive and convalescing, a greatly relieved Chloe lets herself out.

Crash Landing

The devil comes to with a start. He's soaked in sweat, and his heart is pounding. His eyes flutter open and widen with terror as he finds the bed surrounded by the wailing souls of the damned. "Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer," they scream at him.

Lucifer shuts his eyes tight and covers his face with his palms to shut them out. His body shudders as he starts to hyperventilate again. His thoughts race out of control: _I can't stay here. I'm going to jump out of my skin…_

Enough! He screams while pushing himself off of the bed and leaping onto the floor. His legs, still weak, buckle under his slender body. Grabbing at one of the bedposts for support, he attempts to stand up. The raging light-headedness he's experiencing makes the room spin. His attempts to stand up on his own are futile; soaked in sweat from the effort, he feels like he's about to retch. If only he can stand still until the dizziness subsides, and he can take a step—one foot in front of the other. He will be okay.

His wild black eyes dart around the apartment, while Lucifer ponders over flying with his new wings for the first time. It's been awhile he thought, but bloody hell: _I've got to get out of here now._ Instinctively, his wings unfurl and are ready for flight.

"Now or never," Lucifer throws fate to the wind as he launches out of Amenadiel's apartment and flies high over smoggy L.A. Within seconds, he arrives back at Lux to make a crash landing through one of the remaining intact glass panels of the penthouse—shattering it into thousands of shards. Brushing the glass out of his hair, he chuckles: "well, that was some entrance."

"And now for the business at hand," he says with conviction. The devil makes a bee line for the decimated bar where he opens a cupboard that still holds few unbroken bottles of whiskey. His hands shake as he pours himself a triple and nearly swallows it down in a single gulp.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer says, "now that's so much better," and quickly pours himself another. Out of the blue, he gets the distinct feeling that someone is watching him.

Turning away from the bar with another glass of whiskey in his hand, Lucifer lets out a long low sigh as he surveys the damage wreaked upon his house. His wandering gaze fixes on Maze, who is scowling at him from the top of the stairs to his bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses, "you are supposed to be recovering, not flying around, or crashing through windows."

"Amenadiel is torturing me. He refuses to let me smoke or drink—I got desperate, so I flew away." Pouring himself another triple shot, he raises his glass to Maze, "Cheers," he toasts.

"So you flew over here naked as a jailbird…"

"Why should that bother you? It's not like any humans can see me flying overhead."

Maze descends the stairs, bellies up to the bar, and pours herself a generous glassful: "Cheers," she toasts her master.

"You just missed your pet detective. Too bad she didn't see you make your grand entrance through the window—flying buck naked with your angel wings. Somehow I don't think she's quite ready for that image yet.

Raising a single eyebrow, Lucifer seemed concerned, "What did the detective want, Maze,"

"She wanted an update on your condition, so I told her that you weren't dead and that you were recuperating nicely."

Laughing softly about the latest Chloe and Maze snit-fest, Lucifer, casually removes a cigarette from a carved wooden box on the bar, and attempts to light it. But before he could get it lit, Maze swipes it away from his hand.

"I'll let you have some booze but not the cigarettes—not until your lungs heal," she orders him.

"But" The devil complains, "but why not let me smoke?"

"You almost died when you couldn't breathe. The answer is—no. End of story, don't ask again until you are feeling better."

"Maze, I command you to hand over that cigarette, or I'll…"

"You'll what? Do you wanna fight me for one? No? I didn't think so. She says defiantly. Now, why don't you go upstairs and put some clothes on?"

The Last Nerve

Lucifer glares at Maze in a sulk while on the way up the stairs to his bedroom. As he reaches the entrance, he stops, dead in his tracks. The room is a horrifying scene of bloody towels and sheets, puddles of blood on the mattress, and coagulated blood on the floor, arching sprays of blood on the walls, and trails of blood all over the room. His inner sanctum lay in ruin.

A few errant, lifeless, bloodied wing feathers lay on the floor: proof of the terrible violent assault that he'd suffered at the hands of Asherah. The image of him crawling away from her on all fours plays itself in his mind, over and over again.

Lucifer covers his face with his hands to make the images stop, but as soon as he opens his eyes again, he is face to face with Asherah in her demon hell form.

Asherah pushes him up against a wall and traces his jaw with her clawed hand, "I see that your wings have nearly completely healed and your other injuries are on the mend, all except for your mind. That's not doing too well…is it? You're not sure whether I'm real or hallucination."

"I can assure you, son, that I am real. Need I remind you that I have unfinished business with you. I'm still going to take away everybody, and everything, you hold dear, before I end you."

Steeling himself, Lucifer pushes Asherah away, sending her flying up against one of the stone walls of his bedroom. "Get out," he screams, "Leave me alone!" He's left standing in the room, holding his head in his hands and crying in pain. Terrified of opening his eyes and finding her still there, he peeks out from behind his hands to see that Asherah is gone.

A strong wave of nausea comes over him, causing him to retch where he stands. Steadying himself against the wall, Lucifer begins to hyperventilate again—he fears he's going mad. Lurching toward his dresser, he pulls on the first things he finds in the drawers: a pair of black jeans and a black tee shirt. He is so out of sorts that he doesn't bother with socks and shoes. Looking back at the devastation of what was once his most intimate refuge, he knows that he can longer stay: he must leave—now.

Unfurling his wings, Lucifer takes to the skies of L.A.

Maze comes back into his bedroom, "Lucifer," she calls out. "Lucifer? Where are you?"

Only the curtains are still lightly blowing; Lucifer is nowhere to be found.

"Where did he go now? He's so damned unpredictable," Maze spits out under her breath, "he shouldn't be flying so soon after injuring his wings. That wound, the one with all of those stitches, could be in danger of reopening and he would bleed out all over again."

Maze worries about her master, _Lucifer is so stubborn, there's no telling him what to do. I fear that he's lost control of himself._


	13. Chapter 13: Shattered

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N:

Hallucinations, voices, and flashbacks haunt Lucifer. During a panic attack, the devil loses all of his self-control. The momentary lapse will cost Lucifer. The damage is done and cannot be undone. Doctor Linda makes a discovery that changes the course of their relationship.

Linda dips her toe into the hot mess that is currently Lucifer's sanity; he suffers an emotional breakdown.

With his mind is in tatters, will Lucifer descend into madness? Is he already there? Will Linda successfully navigate the uncharted territory of Lucifer's psyche and bring him the resolution he so desperately seeks?

A heavenly intervention ensues when another family member appears.

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

Chapter 13: Shattered

It is quiet above the smog covered skies of L.A., where the hubbub of the city muffled into silence, and an angel flies unseen overhead. Comforted by the sound of his beating wings, Lucifer feels the wind against his face: it has been such a long time since he was able to enjoy this simple pleasure. For just a few short minutes, he can revel in the moment and escape his overwrought mind.

Descending into Beverly Hills, Lucifer appears in doctor Linda's waiting room. Still unsteady under the weight of his wings, he smacks into a wall before coming to a landing. The short flight over to the doctor's office leaves him feeling weak. The sheer physical effort of flying takes its toll on him; his mind and body scream: no! As he lurches over to the door of doctor Linda's office, Lucifer feels like he is at the end of his rope.

A sharp thud against the office wall, causes doctor Linda to investigate. Wondering what all of the commotion is outside of her office, the doctor pulls open the door to face an oddly looking unkempt man with his fist in midair about to pound on her door.

Stopping short of nearly running into the man at her doorstep, Linda gives him a look over. She is taken aback when she recognizes him to be one of her most familiar patients. "Lucifer is that you," she asks.

The man standing in front of her, dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, is a far cry from the debonair, designer-suit-wearing, devilishly-handsome, playboy; who normally darkens her doorway. This disheveled version of Lucifer isn't wearing any shoes or socks. His hair is a tousle of unruly curls. He seems to be suffering from overexertion: he is panting; his pale face is tinged with a flush and sweat trickles down from his temples. The usually confident and assured patient that doctor Linda is accustomed to seeing, now cowers before her.

 _What has happened to him?_ The therapist wonders. _I've never seen him like this before—he's so raw, that he's completely come unhinged._

"Good doctor, please tell me that there's no one in there with you right now…I really, really, need your help. I think… I'm losing my mind." Lucifer pleads.

Intrigued by what he might have possibly gotten himself into this time, the doctor motions him into the office. By now, Dr. Linda had grown accustomed to Lucifer's outbursts and his problems with his evolving humanity. But, this was different, the last time she saw him this raw and this visceral, she ended up with a hole in the wall of her office, after he had angrily punched his fist through it.

Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea

Pulling the door shut behind him, Lucifer stops dead in his tracks. Another powerful panic attack seizes him. He covers his face with his hands and starts hyperventilating; tears stream down his cheeks, as all of the faces of his hallucinations crowd his mind's eye. Their moans and screams drown out all other sounds. In an attempt to ward off the attack, he clamps his eyes shut tight and tries to cover his ears. Unfortunately, he is not able to quell the onslaught of images and voices.

Doctor Linda immediately recognizes that Lucifer is suffering from a full-on panic attack as she attempts to calm him down. "Lucifer," she says softly, "it's okay, you are here now, you will be okay—just breathe. Please, just breathe."

"No, I won't be okay," he says angrily, as he continues to breathe even faster and harder. "I…I'm," his words drop off, as his legs give out from under him. Falling back against the door, he slides down to his knees; his body goes limp and continues on its downward path. Lucifer's head hits the arm of the couch causing his eyes to roll back, and for a single moment; they flash blood red, as he slips all the way down to the floor—into unconsciousness.

The sight of Lucifer's burning-red, devil, eyes was a sight that the doctor would never be able to un-see.

Letting out a loud gasp, fear pools in the pit of Linda's stomach; "what was that?" She whispers.

As if that single manifestation wasn't weird enough, she thought she saw a pair of wings unfurling from his back before they quickly disappeared.

Lucifer was coming apart in front of her very eyes. He had lost all physical and emotional control, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Trembling from the enormity of her discovery, Linda finds that her emotions are all over the map; she is terrified of Lucifer, but at the same time, she is also fascinated by him. Could the emotionally broken man, lying crumpled on the floor, at her feet, actually be the personification of evil that he is supposed to be? Or, was his constant railing against being inherently evil—the truth.

And what then, were those wings trying to unfurl on his back? Was he a real angel? _Was it possible for him to be an angel and the devil at the same time?_

Terror strikes Linda in waves. How can she possibly wrap her head around the fact that Lucifer is the devil?

Her mind roils at the idea that she's been dealing with a supernatural being over all of these months. Had she been so smug, that she'd never even entertained the possibility that Lucifer's incessant blathering about heaven, hell, angels, demons; and his rants about his Father, aka God—might all be true? Lucifer had never lied to her. From the very first day that she'd taken him on as a patient, he had always been totally forthright about who he was: the devil incarnate.

The challenge of getting into the devil's mind compels the psychiatrist in her, but personally, Linda wasn't sure if she had the fortitude to handle it. She considered what just happened in her office as a breakthrough that might help Lucifer to discover his true self whatever that may be.

 _Why wouldn't I be able to treat him, even if he is Satan_? She thought.

" _Damn you!"_ she cursed him under her breath.

The doctor had come to care for this very peculiar and very messed up man; he tugged at her heartstrings like no other patient. They had been lovers; Linda had accepted sex with Lucifer as barter for payment of her services. Their intimate relationship, though short-lived, had been a very unprofessional one. As time wore on, Linda came to view it as a stain on her reputation, and she amicably broke it off. However, Lucifer and Linda still shared a special connection because of it. Linda thought of Lucifer as her friend. She was always there for him, no matter what the day or the hour. The doctor never granted any of her other patients this kind of access. This open-door policy was further proof of how much she did care about him. Moreover, Linda trusted Lucifer; she was sure that he would never knowingly, hurt her.

It is then that Doctor Linda makes the split-second decision, to leave her fear behind. Selflessly, she jumps into action to help Lucifer out. Returning from the bathroom with a cold compress, she sits down on the floor beside him and applies it to his face.

As he begins to come to, Lucifer lets out a low moan. He tries to steady his breathing. His eyes flutter open, and he attempts to focus. "Where did I go just now?" He asks.

Lucifer, "you just had a panic attack: you passed out."

"Oh, I suppose that's how I ended up on the floor then." Lucifer had no idea that he'd flashed the good doctor with his devil eyes and exposed her to errant angel wings—springing out in a most inappropriate way.

Linda lends a helping hand to Lucifer, as he picks himself up off of the floor and sits on the couch. Her patient looks unsettled, his face is tense, as he stares out vacantly.

"Would you like some water?" Without waiting for an answer, Linda gets Lucifer a big glass of ice water, which he gulps down. She observed that his breathing was beginning to slow down and he seemed a bit more collected. Looking into his still troubled eyes, she asks, "better now?"

Staring straight ahead at the floor, he sighs and says meekly, "yes."

Linda takes her seat across the way from the couch, "Lucifer, do you want to talk to me about what just happened here?"

"Yes, yes I do, but I don't know how. Frankly, I don't know whether you will run for the hills if I do."

Analyzing what she'd just seen during his panic attack and realizing that she seemed to be okay with it, she gazes into his unfocused opaque black eyes, and says softly, "I won't run; you are much more than just a patient to me; I think you already know that. I can see how much you are hurting and I just want to help you if I can. I hate seeing you like this."

"Very well, it's a long and complicated story that you will most probably not believe." Lucifer confesses, "I guess, that even if you don't believe me, getting it off my chest will still be of help."

Shifting in closer to him from her chair, Linda locks into his reticent gaze and reassures him; "try me Lucifer, you will find that I don't scare off too easily. Um, before you start, could you please tell me about how you got those marks on your neck and all of those bruises on your face and around your eyes? Were you involved in some altercation? Did you and Amenadiel have another fight?"

"No doctor, it wasn't like that," Lucifer's voice begins to stammer, "I received a thrashing at the hands of Asherah—my mother."

"But Lucifer," the puzzled doctor recalls, "you told me that you didn't have a mother."

Lucifer's shoulders curl over as he crosses his arms and clutches himself over his stomach; staring down at the floor, he begins to speak softly: "Technically, she is not my mother. She was my Father's wife, so that makes her my stepmother."

"You said, she _was_ your Father's wife; does that mean that Asherah and your Father are divorced?"

"Yes, doctor, they had quite a messy split. It ended when Father cast Asherah out of heaven to live out the rest of her life on earth. Unfortunately, once she was earthbound, she became obsessed with regaining her divinity—at any cost. Her behavior had spun out of control; we had to put a stop to it. Father had me lock her up in hell for all eternity. He got what he wanted, and I got what I wanted; which was for Asherah to finally get retribution for what she'd done to me."

"Retribution?" Linda asked, "retribution for what? Did she do something to you?"

Lucifer begins to tremble; tears trickle from his closed eyes; his mouth goes dry as he tries to get the words out. Speaking barely above a whisper, he tells her: "she committed the most unspeakable act against me… Doctor, she raped me."

Linda gasped, she had tried to keep it in, but she couldn't help herself. "she sexually assaulted you?" she hisses in disbelief.

Settling his unfocused stare on that invisible spot on the floor again, Lucifer murmurs, "yes, she defiled me while my Father watched. He did nothing to stop her, or to help me—he just let it happen."

The devil's revelation left Linda speechless. "Lucifer, I am so very sorry," she said, "When did this happen to you?"

Letting out a long sigh, "You're not going to believe me," Lucifer whispers.

Casting his eyes downward on the imaginary spot, he answers, "it happened, a long, long time ago… And then, he blurts out—three thousand years ago."

Trying to remain the ever professional, Linda couldn't help dropping her jaw in amazement, at what he'd just told her. The doctor shelves her anger, remaining calm, she hides behind her therapist façade and says, "I see, and how did that make you feel?" All the while under her professional veneer, she wanted to cry, to grab him and hold him close.

Suddenly, he jerks his head back up to face her, his eyes wet with tears and brimming with hurt: "how did that make me feel," he screams, "you want to know how it made me feel?" His voice cracking with emotion, "I'll tell you—I wished I were dead. I wished she had killed me. She had so thoroughly destroyed me; I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to return from it. I was as lost then as I am now." He cries.

"Holding his head in his hands, Lucifer pleads with the doctor, "please make it stop, she has inflicted this burning pain in my head, from where she ripped away my innermost desires and left me with a burned-out hole."

Pushing back her rising fear, Linda is not sure that she wants to know exactly how Asherah can physically accomplish ripping out pieces of Lucifer's mind from his head. Unfortunately, she knows she has to pursue the hard questions if she's going to help him out.

Taking a deep breath, Linda dips her toe into the hot mess that is currently Lucifer's sanity, "How was Asherah able to get at your innermost desires to rip them out?" She asks reluctantly.

Lucifer's breathing becomes ragged; recalling his struggle to keep Asherah out of his head, he closes his eyes, and cringes as he speaks, "she has the power to get into someone's head to forcibly rip out all of their deepest and darkest desires, memories, and secrets. She can rearrange parts of your mind so that the pieces no longer fit together. In her wake, she leaves nothing behind, but a jumbled and unstable state of mind, which could very well cause a person to go mad. I tried to resist her; I was blocking her, but then she became incensed. She grabbed me by the neck and proceeded to choke me until I lost consciousness for a few seconds. That was all she needed to get into my head and forcibly take what she wanted. She did something to me while she was in there—something awful."

"I'm haunted by people and memories from my past that were long-buried away, deep within me, that are now reappearing before me. I have no control of them. Even when I close my eyes and cover my ears, their faces crowd my vision, and their screams pierce my head."

"It's like she turned my mind upside down and shook everything out. I'm so terrified from the visions and voices that I'm afraid to let myself fall asleep lest they take me over for good."

Trying not to hyperventilate, Lucifer attempts to slow his quickening breaths and calm himself.

"Tell me about these people who are appearing to you," Lucifer, "do you know them?" Linda continues to question.

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer divulges to doctor Linda, "they are souls who think I have wronged them in the past. Particularly, some damned souls in hell who think they were judged wrongly by me. But, judgment is not up to me. Father is the one who judges all souls at death. Their fate is already sealed when they come to me down in hell. My sole job is to punish them. I don't understand why they are accusing me?"

"Doctor, these visions, and voices are driving me mad; I can't stop them," he whispers.

"Lucifer, you are hallucinating and hearing voices, I am afraid that you are suffering the symptoms of a mental breakdown."

"Is that what you call it Doctor? I feel like my mind is out of control. In some cases, the 'hallucinations' have caused physical harm to me. Eve tried to strangle me: see the red welts on my neck? Asherah pushed me up against the wall and held me there by pushing into previous injuries where she'd broken my ribs. Pulling up his shirt, he shows her the nasty bruise on his lower abdomen."

The images of my rape play over and over again in my mind and so do Asherah's assaults. I have no control over these flashbacks—I cannot stop them. If only I could escape it all—for just a few minutes to allow my fevered mind a rest…"

"I'm losing all control of myself and of my emotions, Doctor, I can't stop my mind; it seems to be racing towards madness. That is why I'm here to beg for your help."

"Let me get this straight," Lucifer, "are you telling me that _Eve_ , of Adam and Eve, tried to strangle you?"

"Yes, doctor, she did."

"Well, Lucifer, I am not so well-versed in the creation myth, but didn't the devil tempt her to eat the forbidden fruit?"

"Why yes doctor, that's how the story goes, but the "fruit" is a metaphor—you know, like all the ones you use with me—for well—sex. I tempted Eve and had sex with her. She blamed all of her woes on me and tried to kill me. These welts on my neck are pretty real for a hallucination. Don't you think?"

"Can we discuss the rape," Lucifer. Linda asks as she tries to dig in deeper.

Lucifer is starting to exhibit extreme symptoms of mental distress; he's having a hard time controlling his anxiety. He tries to recount the rape but breaks down in tears instead.

Having reached a dead end on the rape, Linda attempts to find out more about Lucifer's most recent encounter. "Okay, can you tell me about your most recent confrontation with Asherah, how was she able to subdue you?"

His eyes grow wide as he struggles to answer her: "You won't believe me." A sob escapes his mouth, when the flashback of her destroying his wings, begins to appear in his head.

Linda pushes Lucifer further, "you must tell me the whole truth—no matter how crazy it sounds."

How could he break it to the doctor that Asherah had tried to destroy his wings?

"But doctor," he cries, "I can't pour my soul out to you when you think I'm delusional."

Linda recognizes that the moment has come when she must tell Lucifer that she knows who he is before he is swallowed up into a full-blown breakdown.

"Perhaps I'm finally willing to speak to you outside of your metaphor." The doctor says in a measured tone.

His expression turning quizzical, Lucifer demands to know. "What? Why? What has changed?

Outed…

"We are going to have to finally get at the essence that makes you, who you are—before we can fix you."

"But I've been telling you for months that I am," he snarls exasperatedly—"I'm the damn devil!"

"And I'm telling you that I am ready to treat you as such, but I will need some more information from you."

"Doctor, why are you so ready to embrace my—metaphor? Why now, why today?"

"What exactly did you see that would lead you to believe that I'm not speaking in metaphors when I tell you who I am?"

Lucifer is not sure if he is ready for the doctor's answer.

Dr. Linda opens her eyes wide and takes a deep breath. "Okay—when you had your panic attack earlier, and you passed out on the floor, your eyes rolled back into your head once you hit the ground—they weren't brown…they were blood red. They glinted in the light like fire, and they did not look human."

"You've seen my eyes change and you are not scared witless? Linda, most people, wet themselves when they see them. Why haven't you run as fast and as far from me as you can?"

"Believe me, I thought about doing just that. I was at war with myself, while you were laying unconscious on the floor. Lucifer, you more than anyone, should know that I'm not most people. I found the experience disconcerting at first. I could not un-see what I had seen, earlier. But, I think I know you well enough, to trust you. I don't think you will hurt me."

"Yes, doctor, you are right there. So, what else did I reveal in my momentary lack of control?"

Despite his repeated claims to be the devil and his rants about his divine family issues, Lucifer is visibly upset when the discovery of his true identity is imminent. Looking at Linda with a mixture of fear and elation, he hoped that she would have the stomach for dealing with him on his journey to discover who or what he was.

"Lucifer, it was the second thing I saw coming from you that heartened me to keep on helping you. Directly after I saw your red eyes; I saw a pair of angel wings attempt to unfurl from your back before disappearing."

"My bad, doctor, my wings aren't broken in yet, so they are still a bit unpredictable. They seem to have a mind of their own. I'm sure that my total lack of control was at the bottom of these brief transgressions."

"Your, wings…Lucifer, you are talking about your angel wings?"

"Yes, yes, of course, I am."

"How can you be the devil with the wings of an angel?"

A small sigh escapes Lucifer's mouth, as his face softens, "Father created me as an angel, I was not born to be the devil. I am still an angel; that is my species: one hundred percent angel."

"But, Lucifer, how do you reconcile being both?"

" I can't. Having my wings in hell, a piece of my Father's divinity on my back, was a curse to me and a reminder of all that I'd lost in my fall from heaven. When Maze and I escaped from hell and arrived on earth, I had her cut off my wings to spite my Father. Later, I burned them to make sure I'd never change my mind and re-attach them."

"Lucifer, I saw a pair of wings spring from you…"

"Yes, those are my new ones. Father decided to restore them to me to help in my quest to bring Asherah back down to hell. Not that the new wings helped me in this respect. As soon as she saw them, she tried to rip them off my back like insect wings. She almost ripped one entirely off from my body—it hung on by a thread. Asherah neutralized me in a matter of seconds. I didn't have a chance in bloody hell against her."

"She isn't finished with me yet, you know, she wants to kill me, to end me forever, he said, sadly."

"But your wings are okay now?"

"Yes, thanks to a human doctor who was able to fix them."

All of a sudden, Lucifer starts to rub his temples. His breathing becomes ragged, shutting his eyes tightly, he slumps over. "Doctor the pain…it's too much for me to bare. Everything is caving in on me. I feel as if I'm living from vision to vision—they are overpowering my mind."

"I'm so tired of it all that I can't go on. I'm overwhelmed." Just then, another hallucination hits Lucifer. A wall of souls appears directly behind Linda. They are moaning and wailing—Lucifer—they scream. His mouth opens in horror as he tries to look away. Sweat drips from his brow; he closes his eyes tightly while he covers his ears. He starts to hyperventilate forcibly.

"Doctor, don't you see them? They are right behind you. Can't you hear them?"

Linda turns around in her chair to look over her shoulder but sees nothing.

"No, Lucifer, there's nothing there. You are hallucinating."

"But doctor, if they are not there, why won't they go away! He screams."

"Please, please help me. Make it stop, Linda, please make it stop—I'm going mad."

As Lucifer passes out, his head flops behind him on the couch. He is twitching and trembling uncontrollably. Linda's fears that he's about to suffer a complete psychotic breakdown have come true.

Shattered…

Lucifer's mind has just shattered into a million pieces before her very eyes.

Regaining consciousness, he lies back on the couch. Lucifer is shuddering now and breathing hard. He can barely focus; he looks off vacantly.

"Lucifer?" Linda calls to him.

He doesn't look at her. He's somewhere else. He's mumbling, forming words that die on his lips. He's losing his physical faculties now as well.

"Doctor," he whimpers, "I am lost. I can't find my mind; it's gone. My head is an empty hole of pain—I've lost my mind," he cries.

Linda gives Lucifer another glass of water and retreats to her back room where she stores her meds. In a few short minutes, when she comes out with several vials of pills, she finds Lucifer in a catatonic state. He lays back on the couch, frozen rigidly, and staring blankly back up at the ceiling. He is not able to blink or to move a single muscle.

If Linda is to save Lucifer, she must act fast.

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Prince Of Darkness

The Doctor returns with a fast-acting sedative and administers the shot to Lucifer's neck. Within seconds he responds: his body softens and goes limp, he closes his eyes, and his breathing slows to normal.

After about fifteen minutes, he opens his eyes and engages Linda.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, for the first time, since this all started, I'm beginning to feel relieved." Lucifer's anxiety-ridden face begins to relax.

"Good, not a moment too soon." Lucifer, "could you please take the remainder of these meds for me?"

Obediently, he gulps them down along with some more water. As the pain subsided, the look of relief came over his face.

"Doctor, everything was closing in on me, I was coming apart at the seams—you saved me."

Laughing nervously, she answers, "it was the fast-acting sedative I shot you up with that saved you."

"Oh," he said shakily, "do you think you will be able to help me?"

"Yes, Lucifer, I will try my best to help you."

"Lucifer, can I ask you something?"

"What dear doctor?"

"May I see you in your wings?"

Smiling genuinely for the first time that day, Lucifer says proudly, "if you wish."

Rising from the couch, Lucifer is a little wobbly on his feet at first, but then he stands up straight and unfurls his wings.

"Linda's eyes become as wide as saucers; she drew in a powerful gasp at the sight of Lucifer in a tee shirt and jeans, barefooted and adorned with these magnificent opalescent wings that take up almost the entire room. "Oh, my God, Lucifer, they are exquisite! And you are marvelous with them."

Resuming his seat on the couch, Lucifer doesn't bother to retract his wings. Instead, he lets them drape on the sofa behind him.

The sight of Lucifer laying back on his wings, gazing up at her, sleepily, was almost too much. His face was the picture of peacefulness and calm; he had an air of innocence that she'd never seen before.

"Lucifer, you'll be falling asleep, and you will need someone to take you home. How did you get here today?"

"He looks back at his wings, and smiles."

"Oh, right."

"Well, you aren't in any condition to fly."

"Amenadiel can come and pick me up."

"Right, let me get my phone."

Lucifer puts his hands together in prayer to Amenadiel

"Here, is the phone…"

"No need," doctor, "he'll be here in a few minutes."

"But how were you able to tell him without a phone."

Lucifer grinned, "I prayed to him of course."

"Ah, so Amenadiel is an angel too?"

"Yes, of course, he is, a slightly different version than me, but quite formidable."

Lucifer's eyelids were feeling so heavy, that he could no longer keep them open. He places his head on Linda's shoulder and pulls himself up to her side. It wasn't sexual, but endearingly comforting. A small smile forms on his face.

"Linda, thank you for helping me…you have no idea how much you mean to me…you are my rock."

She feels him go limp on her shoulder as he falls fast asleep. One of his wings instinctively covers both of them under the warmth of its downy feathers.

She'd never felt such pure comfort and goodness before. Touching the wings, Linda marvels at their softness and warmth. They have a very subtle glow to them. She feels something that she's never felt before from them; something that fills and warms her heart. Linda experiences euphoria as she feels the love of God emanating from the feathers of Lucifer's wings

This very complicated being who was innocently asleep on her shoulder was the ultimate paradox. Was he good, or evil? Only time would tell. Right at the moment, though, he appeared to be good.

Was she glad she'd overcome her trepidation about him once she'd found out he was the devil? Absolutely!

She hears Amenadiel knocking at the door. "Come in; she calls from the couch."

Amenadiel takes one look at a peacefully sleeping Lucifer with his wings protectively draped over him and Linda.

Smiling at the tableau the two made, "well, I see you know, he says."

"Yes, and I also saw his eyes…"

"Ah, you had the full show, then."

"Yes, you could say that I had the full show today."

"And, somehow, you seem to be okay with it."

"It was terrifying at first, but then I found that I was able to overcome my fears and help him. He needed me."

"I'm so glad you were able to help him, now, I'll take him home."

"Wait," Amenadiel, "your brother is in a very delicate state. He's just suffered a very significant emotional breakdown."

"You mean he's had a nervous breakdown," he asks incredulously?

"That's the old term for it, but yes, that's what he's suffered through."

"Will he recover from it?"

"I hope he will."

Lucifer had sunk to the bottom; he thought that he was going mad. Most of the time, in these situations, the patient does not physically lose their mind; just _parts go missing_. Hopefully, they can get them all back."

"How are you going to accomplish that?"

"I'm going to pursue a course of pharmacological therapy first, and then follow it up with talk therapy, when he is sufficiently recovered to undergo it. Amenadiel, I'm going to put him under a sleep cure, where his mind and brain can recuperate gently. His old beliefs should remain intact. He will be able to learn new information without releasing stress. It is very important that you keep him calm, do not expose him or engage him in any stressful manner."

"He's going to be experiencing a lot of dreams in this persistent, induced sleep state. The beauty of this is that the dreams—good or bad—present themselves and the information they bring is acquired into the brain—gently. During this dream state, dreams aren't reacted to or judged; this allows the overwrought brain and mind to relax and recover. Dream sleep is the deepest and most restorative of the sleep stages, and the longer he can remain in that state, the better and faster he will heal."

Amenadiel, "please give him the meds that I'll be providing you. Make sure they are administered to him on time and try to keep him asleep as much as possible."

"But, he's always trying to escape, he's hard to keep under control."

"The good thing about this treatment is that he will be so far under because of the meds, that he won't be going anywhere. Believe me; he will be so stoned, that he'll be barely able to talk, let alone try to escape."

"Stoned," you say. "Hmm, I can't see Lucifer having a problem with that." How long do you plan to keep him under?"

"I think three weeks should be enough time for all of the pieces to fall back into place."

"Are you saying that his mind fell to pieces?"

"He says that your mother, Asherah got into his mind and altered it somehow, bringing this event upon him. Do you know anything about that?"

"I know that Asherah has the power to get into people's heads, and yes, many have gone mad as a result."

"I'm not going to let that happen to Luci; I'm pretty sure I took care of it in the nick of time before irreversible problems were allowed to take place."

"He doesn't need to eat or drink during the cure, but if he should request something, you can give it to him. But—absolutely NO alcohol and NO cigarette smoking."

"I'll send you instruction sheets and a synopsis of his condition and the outlook for his resolution."

"Do you think he'll ever be his old self again?"

"Yes, in time, I don't see why not." As long as we keep him in that persistent sleep state for several weeks.

"Thanks again," Linda.

Amenadiel picks up Lucifer's limp form and gathers him, wings and all, into his arms. The angel unfurls his great black warrior wings. They both disappear in an instant as the papers on Linda's desk rustle in the breeze.

Linda lies back on the couch and tries to take in what has just happened to her here. Blowing out a breath of relief, she hopes that her treatment prescriptions will work for Lucifer. After all, he is not human, so there is no telling whether it will work on him or not. But she had tried her best to bring him back.

Touched By An Angel

Meanwhile, Amenadiel arrives with Lucifer at his apartment and carefully lays him down on the bed. He looks so frail, a shadow of the formidable devil that he knew.

Amenadiel noticed smears of blood on his arms and his tunic. Turning Lucifer over, he sees the bloody wing, where the stitches had pulled apart when he'd strained it while flying.

Just then, he feels a familiar presence in the apartment, looking up from Lucifer, he stares out ahead into the room. A broad smile opens on his face, "Hello Raphael…it's been awhile."


	14. Chapter 14: Raphael To The Rescue

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N:

The Archangel Raphael comes down from heaven to save the day. Unfortunately, things don't all go his way.

Asherah has thrown some cold water on his healing fire, and it doesn't work on Lucifer. In fact, it doesn't work at all. It seems she's interfering with Raphael's powers.

He must heal Lucifer soon. Otherwise, his life could hang in the balance.

Raphael faces emotions that he's never had to experience before. Will he have the strength and resolve to get his powers back.

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

Chapter 14: Raphael To The Rescue

Hello Raphael—It's Been A While _…_

Swirling beams of energy gather along the West wall of the apartment, directly behind Amenadiel. He's still reeling from the emotional roller coaster ride of the past few days. Pangs of guilt continue to eat away at him. Lucifer has re-injured his wing, and it is bleeding out all over the bed, he's still not out of the woods—mentally or physically. Amenadiel's spirits are at an all-time low as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. He's starting to feel burned out.

All of a sudden, his angelic radar picks up a signal. Amenadiel's spirits lift from the doldrums. His eyes crinkle with glee, as he cracks a broad, toothy grin when he senses the familiar energy of Raphael about to materialize.

The dark angel turns around on his heels, in time to see an ephemeral flash of light emanating from a dancing chrome green orb. As it grows brighter and brighter, the ball of green flame disappears into the center of the pendant that hangs around Raphael's neck. Millennia have come and gone since the healing angel's last visit to earth. Perhaps, that is why he gags when he gulps his first breath of smoggy L.A. air, as he fully transforms into his terrestrial manifestation. Appearing directly in front of Amenadiel, Raphael answers, "Yes, brother, _it has been—much too long_."

The first impression of Raphael is one of self-confidence, stability, and balance. In the current vernacular, he would be considered to be: centered. He is tall, but not imposingly so, his lithe body is lean and lightly muscled. Wavy sienna tresses fall freely to his shoulders, framing his lichen-green eyes which glimmer gossamer gray. He has a handsome, evenly featured face, with a beatific smile that is disarmingly charming. The angel wears a long, hooded, viridian flannel tunic over gray cotton chamois pants. The soft calming colors of his clothes appear in contrast to his brilliant, white-gold, wings. Around his neck, hangs a silver pendant engraved with ancient celestial symbols from the Pentacle of Solomon; at its center, sits a healing stone of turquoise.

"You are a sight for sore eyes!" He says his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I like your new look."

"Yes," Raphael smiles back, "My last guise made me look positively archaic. You know: the armor and sandals get up, screamed…Old Testament. And that unwieldy caduceus staff, I used to haul around, seriously cramped my style. Besides, I hated wearing that armor, because it was always so—drafty!

I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, Amenadiel, I know you were praying to me, and that Lucifer went through a few tough times, but Michael would not let me come down to help our brother. He threatened to do to me, what Asherah did to Lucifer. Imagine that! But I am here now, so let's make the best of it."

"Michael threatened to rip off your wings?" Amenadiel scoffs, "he's gone off the deep end—hasn't he? Does he know you are here?"

"No, he has no idea that I am here, and I want to keep it that way. He disappeared a few days ago, right after Father saved Lucifer from suffocating to death. Michael's off brooding somewhere, probably on some forsaken lost planet or star. So, I took the opportunity to come down before he gets back."

"Well then, we better work fast before he finds you missing. We wouldn't want anything to happen to those beautiful wings of yours."

A Wing And A Prayer

Lucifer suffers from fits of pain that make him contort his injured wing away from the mattress. Drugged halfway to oblivion, his body twitches during a restless sleep. Blood oozes from his wound and spreads out like a bright red shadow across the bedding. Standing over his brother, Raphael cocks his head to one side as he rubs his hand over his cheek. A look of concern drags his face down, "He looks so frail like he could snap in two like a twig. Let's turn him over so that I can get a look at his wing Amenadiel, let's be gentle with him."

After careful observation and some prodding around, Raphael comes up with a diagnosis. "I'm impressed," he gushes, "I can't believe that a human doctor was able to treat Lucifer's wings successfully. Whoever he was, he did a commendable job stitching him up. These sutures are impeccable."

Amenadiel rolls his eyes, "yes, the doctor who made the "house call" is brilliant, but he is also a high functioning alcoholic and a drug abuser. He was drunk and stoned when he worked on Lucifer."

"Regardless, brother, he fixed Luci's wings. Even if he achieved it while being under the influence, that is still an impressive feat in my book."

Raphael has barely touched Lucifer's wound when he winces and cries out in pain. Shaking his head in disbelief, Raphael sighs, "I don't know how he was able to fly at all, his wings have just begun to mature, let alone, heal. He's re-opened some of the stitches from the wound that is causing him to bleed out.

The spot that was sewn up is a critical juncture where the nerves and arteries flow from the body out to the wings. It's also the sweet spot for where the main wing bone juts out from the scapula. These new wings of his have not yet solidified, and they can easily be broken or even ripped from him: like Asherah did in her attack. I can only imagine how painful that must have been for him to endure. It's a wonder he survived that kind of trauma to his wings—at all. An angel rarely survives that kind of injury. It is usually, a long, slow, death sentence. We don't have a precedent here, as Father has never restored wings on a mature angel before. We are in uncharted territory in that respect."

Raphael continues with his assessment, "I can feel that his wings are still in their soft developmental stage. They are more like cartilage than bone at this point."

"In your opinion," brother, "how long do you think they will need to _mature_?"

"I would venture to say, in about a month. But since Lucifer has already had them for over a week now, three more weeks would be my guess."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Amenadiel nods his head in approval, "that shouldn't be a problem since he will be knocked out from the Doctor's sleep cure, for at least that long."

Laughing to himself, Raphael gives his brother a friendly pat on the back, "good, so you won't have to worry about him escaping and flying about until his wings have matured."

"Well, Raphe, we are talking about Lucifer. Frankly, I'm hoping that all of the narcotics we're pumping into him, will do their job and keep him stoned enough to prevent him from going anywhere soon."

"Taking care of our brother is proving to be quite a handful for you," eh, Amenadiel, "even for such a big bad warrior as yourself?"

"That is an understatement," Raphe. Amenadiel cracks up laughing, "you have no idea."

"But you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?"

Not able to look Raphael in the eye, Amenadiel looks down at the floor, "No, I have been selfish and self-absorbed, and Lucifer has suffered greatly as a result. I am so ashamed of my actions. The things I did to push my agenda of getting him back to hell were..."

"Yes, let's see. First, you stole Luci's wings. That only cost two humans their lives. And then, you plucked a deranged soul from the fires of hell to bring him back to life to murder your brother—and you almost succeeded! Oh, and let's not forget about sleeping with the demon." He smiles. "Oh, yes," Amenadiel, "your earthly transgressions have earned you quite the reputation. We've been watching you for some time now."

Wincing at his brother's words, Amenadiel swallows hard, "We?" he chokes out.

"Why yes, following Lucifer's exploits on earth is like the best _reality_ show ever."

"Um, who is watching? Don't you all have better things to do with your time."

"Who is watching you ask? Why all of us—and Father too, of course."

"Why was I never privy to this when I was back home?"

"Because only the archangels, cherubs, and seraphim that surround Father's throne, are allowed to look in with him. Sorry brother, but warrior angels are not privy to observe what happens in the earthly realm."

"Much to Michael's consternation, Father still loves Lucifer. Despite all of the bad blood between the two, he is still his favorite son: nothing, seems to be able to change that. Father still cares about Lucifer, so much so, that he continues to keep a close watch over him.

You would think, after all of the eternities that have gone by, that perhaps, Michael would have mellowed out by now. Unfortunately, he only gets angrier and angrier. He is more obsessed than ever, about killing Lucifer. But enough, about Michael. He's not worth the attention we are heaping on him."

Lucifer, on the other hand, is in dire need of our attention, "look how he suffers—let's do something about that." Raphael folds his hands over his brother and bows his head in prayer. As he prays, his hands take on a bright green glow. Placing the palms of his hands with fingers outstretched, directly down over the open wound, he allows the healing rays to touch down on Lucifer's wing.

Lucifer gasps sharply, twisting away from Raphael, he cries out in pain. Despite the healing angel's gentle touch, even the slightest pressure feels like a knife stabbing at his back.

Amenadiel watches in amazement as Raphael lifts his hands slightly and waves them over the wound and the entire wing. Healing green light rays emit from his fingers; the bright green light gathers over Lucifer's wing and sparkles for a few minutes until it fades. All traces of the wound and the old scars on his back, disappear, in their place, a new layer of perfectly smooth skin looks like the injury never happened.

Looking at his handiwork, Raphael allows himself a small smile—he is pleased with the outcome. Coming down from the adrenaline of the effort, he tries to rub away the tightness in his neck, "that went well, now Amenadiel, could you please give me a hand turning him over?"

As Raphael and Amenadiel turn Lucifer over on his back, he wakes up. Feeling groggy from the meds, Lucifer begins to move his shoulder blades stiffly, when he notices that his wings are free of the throbbing pain he'd been experiencing. _Relief,_ he thinks, as he sinks back into the pillow.

"Amenadiel," he says, smiling as his eyes flutter open. But, it is not the face of Amenadiel who greets him. It is his long-lost brother, who he hasn't seen since his fall from heaven. "Raphael, is that you?" His eyes widen in disbelief. He can barely contain his happiness. Gazing back at Raphael with a beaming smile, Lucifer asks, "Raphe was it you that fixed my wings just now?"

Leaning over his brother, Raphael locks eyes with Lucifer for the first time. Laugh lines form at the corners of his eyes, as he smiles at him, "yes, Luci, I have fixed them. Don't you dare try to fly with them before they have the chance to heal. Because I'm not coming back down here to repair you again!"

In a pure state of joy, Lucifer pulls Raphael into a hug, "It's been an eternity since I've seen you brother. I thought that Michael had poisoned you against me and that you wanted nothing to do with me."

Pulling back from Lucifer's hug, "who told you that?" Raphael demanded.

"No one actually, I just couldn't help imagining you betraying our bully of a brother over me."

"I hadn't considered crossing him until you became the victim of a vicious and unfair attack by Asherah. I know you were the last one to see her before you locked her up in hell all of those years ago. However, we all participated in pushing her down to you, during that ill-fated intervention, Father had us carry out. All of us played a role in her imprisonment. You were there, Amenadiel, were you not? I don't know why she would vent it all out on you, Luci. Why did she not take some of it out on Amenadiel too?"

"It seems she has a special vendetta against you, brother," Raphael mocks.

"Yes, her behavior towards me is quite unpredictable." Lucifer remarks as he runs his hand over the stubble on his chin, "one moment she loves me and the next moment, she hates me and wants to extinguish me from the universe."

"Women" Amenadiel shakes his head.

"Goddesses," Lucifer adds.

"Listen to you two, finishing each other's sentences, like an old married couple. See what being down on earth so long has done to you both," Raphael laughs.

"At least we aren't under Michael's thumb down here," Amenadiel retorts defensively.

Breaking the growing edginess in the air, Raphael teases, "Don't we sound like a trio of cackling hens!"

"Now, Lucifer, let's look at those other nasty injuries you have."

"What injuries? I'm doing just fine," Lucifer deflects. Yawning, he stretches and lies back down into the pillow. Ignoring Raphael, he shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Raphael isn't having it. He pulls up Lucifer's shirt to reveal a huge dark purple bruise on his lower right abdomen that had grown exponentially over the last day. "Oh, so what is this? Do you mean to tell me that that this is a minor boo-boo?"

Pressing his hand onto the bruise, the healing angel, makes Lucifer cry out, "Ow! That bloody hurts!" Sorry brother, I don't mean to hurt you, but I must do some poking around to diagnose the problem. "One of your broken ribs has lacerated your liver and this giant bruise here, is as a result of all the internal bleeding going on. Lucifer, this is severe, it could kill you."

Still trying to downplay the severity of his injury, Lucifer dismisses Raphael's diagnosis. "Well, it wasn't that big of a deal just a few hours ago, it was quite small and hardly painful back then."

Puzzled, Raphael quizzes Lucifer, "I thought Father took care of all of this when he spared you your life the other day."

"It seemed like it was all taken care of, but then yesterday, it all started hurting again. Could I have injured myself crashing into the window at Lux, or smacking into the wall at Doctor Linda's?"

"If your injuries had all been healed by Father, then there would be no trace of them left. How do the same injuries suddenly return?

At that moment, Amenadiel, recalls Lucifer babbling on about running into Asherah at Lux, "Luci, did you have another confrontation with her?"

Renewed feelings of fear grip Lucifer as he recalls his last encounter with the goddess. "Yes…Amenadiel, I think I did. At first, I figured she was just another hallucination, but as she pinned me up against the wall, she assured me that she was indeed—real. In a matter of seconds, she landed several hard hits against my chest and gut, and I felt my ribs crack all over again. Somehow, I managed to push her off of me, and I threw her against a wall. Lucifer ran his hand over his head, I…I, can't remember what happened next."

As he Looks up to the heavens, Raphael's head tilts back, giving a half shrug; he frowns, "Father, give me strength. Don't worry brother; this will be an easy fix. His frown melting into a tender smile, Raphael places a reassuring hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "This is going to hurt—but only for a moment until I can heal your injury. Understood?"

"If this is the last of the prodding and poking of me? Then yes, I understand it's going to hurt initially." Turning his head away from his brother, Lucifer braces himself.

Raphael's eyes, begin to shine with an inner light, as he prepares himself to deliver his healing fire to Lucifer. Rubbing his hands together until they are warm, so warm, that they glow from the green healing light that flows from his fingers. The angel presses his palms down onto the bruise over Lucifer's lacerated liver and holds them there for a few minutes.

Lucifer cries out in pain and then tries to hold it all in.

Lifting his hands away from the bruise, Raphael continues to spread his healing rays over all of the remaining injuries. Suddenly, Lucifer screams in pain. "Stop, please, stop, this is not working. The pain is unbearable," he moans.

"Not working?" _How can that be_ , as the angel abruptly pulls his hands away from his brother? Raphael is stunned.

Pacing the room, Amenadiel feels helpless. How could Raphael's healing fire go wrong?

Lucifer flinched away from Raphael. Pain shot through him like a flaming arrow. His eyes opened wide with fear. "Raphe, are you trying to kill me?" He cries while gasping for breath, "Did Michael send you down here to finish me off?"

Lucifer started to hyperventilate as he looked up at Raphael, terror filled his eyes; panic crept back into his mind. Thankfully, he passes out.

Amenadiel sidles up behind Raphael and whispers angrily into his ear, "what are you doing? He's not supposed to be stressed out at all. Did you know he suffered an emotional breakdown less than twenty-four hours ago?"

The angel turned away from Lucifer; his shoulders rolled forward and his troubled gaze aimed at the ground, Raphael felt emotions he'd never experienced before doubt and fear. The usually confident Angel had never once doubted himself and his ability to heal. There was never any question about his powers. For the first time in his existence, he felt fear. Some unknown force was usurping his powers. That had to be the only way a routine healing could go so horribly wrong.

Failure is not an option, especially when it comes to family. Raphael is devastated that he let Lucifer down. Now he fears that he has made his brother's situation worse by raining down stress on his already emotionally fragile state.

A strange tingling feeling comes over the angel like a force was sucking away his powers. He held his hands outstretched before him and tried to summon his healing force—but nothing happened. The green healing flame did not appear. Raphael's eyes widen with terror as he looks up to the heavens. Father, he screams, Why? What have I done to deserve this? Are you angry with me for trying to help Lucifer?

Raphael is met with God's standard answer: resounding silence.


	15. Chapter 15: Brotherly Love

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N:

Lots of brotherly angst in this chapter. Raphael tries to find a way around his missing healing fire to heal Lucifer. He finds it deep inside of himself. While the method is successful, the outcome is unpredictable and puts Raphael in harm's way. Amenadiel inadvertently helps Raphael save himself.

I introduce the Archangel Michael in this chapter, and he is not what we are all led to believe he is. Lucifer learns that he may not have been his Father's first choice to become the devil.

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

CHAPTER 15: BROTHERLY LOVE

Raphael: Heal Thyself

How loud the sounds of silence can be, I'd never noticed. I've just roared at my Father, in anger, and frustration. Like a child, I stamped my foot, had a temper tantrum.

"Why?" I shouted at the sky. "Who's taken my healing fire from me?" He did not answer—He never answers.

Three of us holed up in the confines of this tiny studio apartment of Amenadiel's, with only a bed and a single straight back chair to share among us. Sandwiched between neighbors engaging in bouts of wall-banging sex on one side and acrimonious domestic bickering on the other. Silence is a valuable commodity in this place.

Despite the cramped conditions, Amenadiel's flat is bright, bathed with pure white light. I find it oddly reminiscent of home, an outpost, a little hub of spiritual energy. Time seems to follow an otherworldly path here. Curiously, the noisy neighbors have abated. Perhaps the word has gotten out that they shouldn't rouse the devil in apartment 2B.

Breaking from his thoughts, Raphael stammers, "I…I don't know what to do, I've never felt so helpless. I want to heal Luci, but I can't."

Tensions rise high within such close quarters; a mood settles in that is palpable enough to hack with a dull blade. As the only being in the room whose powers are still intact, Amenadiel knows that he must stay strong in light of the afflictions that have befallen Lucifer and now, Raphael.

A sinking feeling wrenches at Amenadiel's gut as the angel of healing seems to unravel before his eyes. "Rafe, are you okay?" He asks hesitantly.

Planted at the foot of Lucifer's bed, Raphael watches the pained expression on his brother's face and hears the quiet moans that escape his mouth. The Archangel feels himself slipping into despondency.

Blinking away the tears, he shakes his head in disbelief, "no brother; I am not…okay. It's all gone—I have nothing left."

Not fully grasping the gravity of Raphael's situation, a frown twists itself across Amenadiel's face, "what do you mean, _nothing left_."

"My healing fire has been wrested from me...my powers are gone," Raphael's his voice trails off. His hands cover his ears in an attempt to quell the noise. All he can feel is the beating of his own heart so hard against his chest that he hears it pounding in his head.

Nervous energy unsettles the angel, compelling him to pace up and down the small room. Raphael looks like he's about to lose it at any second. His mouth feigns speech, opening and shutting like a sick fish, he mumbles, "What have I done? How could such a routine treatment go so terribly wrong? It should have been a simple fix. I should have been able to heal him. Now, he is in more pain than ever. How can that be?" His tear-filled eyes grip Amenadiel's, looking for an answer, "Brother, please tell me how did this happen?"

Amenadiel curls his muscular arm around Raphael's hunched shoulders, and attempts to comfort his brother,"Stop! Just stop for a second. Don't beat yourself up, Rafe-you tried your best."

"Obviously, my best is not good enough, it only serves to disparage my abilities. It is as if each injury was predestined to become worse under the touch of my healing fire. I felt an outside force interfering with me while I was working on Luci. There are only two beings in all of creation with the kind of power that could cause my healing hand to tremble and falter. I know it wasn't Father, so it must be Asherah. She knew that I would be Lucifer's last hope to heal the injuries she'd inflicted on him."

"Asherah seems more than willing to show us her capabilities. I think she wants us all to understand and, to fear the extent of her supremacy. She may be almost as powerful as Father, but she doesn't wield her powers with the same grace and goodness that he does. She likes to flaunt her forces and play mind games with all of us. Asherah doesn't care who she hurts in the process as long as she gets what she wants."

Silhouetted by the thick grayness of the L.A. sky, Raphael stands at the window with his hands spread apart on the sill and his head hanging low. The sky had grown dark, a storm was blowing in and inside, the room grew dim. It had become darkened enough in the apartment to reveal a tremulous, nearly translucent, shimmering white aura emanating from the angel's body.

"Hello old friend," Raphael whispers at the white light that naturally glows from his hands. And then it dawns on him, "Why hadn't I thought of this before? I can use my inherent powers as an empath to heal Luci. Yes, that should work out well—except with one remotely possible caveat."

Tuning everything else out, the Archangel gazes off into the distant sky as the storm unleashes a cloudburst of rain that dissipates into the soft sound of droplets pelting against the window. The gentle pitter-patter produces a calming effect, conducive to self-awareness and introspection. Raphael begins a standing meditation while he tries to reconnect with his inner self. To his delight, he finds that his mind-body-spirit is still intact, in fact, there has been no change, except in his ability to call up the healing fire. Relaxing his breathing, taking slow, deep breaths, Raphael finds that he can center himself. At that moment, the angel regains his composure, clarity, and confidence to heal once again.

The Awakened Heart

In a matter of moments, Raphael's aura had already grown in brilliance, and intensity; he could feel its euphoric emotions gently flowing through him. Turning around from the window, he sees that Amenadiel has fallen asleep while slumped on the floor. The Archangel, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently rouses his brother, he whispers, "Amenadiel, wake up."

Startled by the bright light in front of him, Amenadiel awakes abruptly, "Rafe, is that you?" He says sleepily, "wow, what have you got going on there? I thought you no longer had your powers."

"Correction my somnolent brother, the healing fire was a gift from Dad. However, the aura that you see now is just me. It has always been a part of me."

"I was dreaming that you had healed Luci when you woke me up." Rafe, "do you think that you can make him well by using this aura of yours?"

"While it does have some limitations, healing someone through the empathic release of negative energy is powerful medicine. I am quite confident that I can treat Luci using that method."

"But Rafe, what about Asherah, could she have somehow blocked the powers you have from your aura?"

A smile widens across his face, "she may be mightier than I, but she hasn't got me beat—yet. I still have some other ways to get around her. Besides, I barely know Asherah. At best, her knowledge of my powers is superficial; she doesn't know much about me. She thinks she's blocked my healing abilities, but she hasn't gotten to all them. There's more to me than the healing fire. I'll bet she hasn't thought of this…at least, I hope she hasn't. No matter, it's worth the gamble."

"Brother,let me try to heal him one more time-I know I can do this."

"And if you don't succeed?" Amenadiel responds flatly.

Looking his brother straight in the eye, the angel retorts, "Failure is not an option."

As Raphael begins the process of calming his head in preparation to heal Lucifer, an unwelcome interloper intrudes. The voice of Michael thunders in his brother's ear, "Leave him be. Do not interfere with his fate."

His voice filled with anger and indignation; Raphael defies his command, "Damn, you Michael, I will not let Luci perish without a fight. I'm going to give it everything I've got. If I fail and go down in the process—so be it. I know you want him dead, but not this time and not because _I_ couldn't heal him."

"Very well, brother, but be ready to suffer the consequences," Michael warns.

Ignoring Michael's threat, Raphael continues to prepare himself to heal Lucifer. He begins by taking deep calming breaths, centering himself. Next, he envisioned himself grounded and connected to the earth: balanced, stable and secure.

Turning toward Lucifer, Raphael's heart clenches at the sight of him. He is ashen, barely breathing and deathly still. "I must hurry," he murmurs.

Closing his eyes, Raphael imagines that there is an enormous sun above him, sending its beams of light into his heart and down into his hands. His will directs the light wherever it needs to go. His hands feel hot to the touch, glowing with white light, they are ready to start the healing ritual.

Raphael's hands glide within the energy field a few inches above Lucifer's skin. Starting at his head, he passes his hands over his brother's body in broad sweeping motions, working his way down to his feet. Lucifer responds to the first pass by releasing his anxiety and relaxing his body, making it easier to continue to work on him.

Placing his hands on Lucifer's head, Raphael begins a slow and careful scan. He pauses over areas of negative energy and continues to hover his hands over the affected area until it clears before moving on. Slowly he makes his way down to the soles of his brother's feet.

On the final sweep, starting once again at Lucifer's head, Raphael's hands glide free over his body, no more negative energy obstructs their path. It feels like a gentle, cooling breeze flows beneath the warmth of his healer's hands. The final pass elicits deep gulps of air from Lucifer as his body slumps; pain drains from him, all traces of stress leave his face, his breathing gains regularity—he seems to be in a deep and comfortable sleep.

Raphael has taken away all of Lucifer's pain and taken it inside of himself. He feels it's coldness as it enters him.

On the other side of the room, Amenadiel kneels in prayer, with an eye on his brothers, he squints at the brilliantly bright, aura that envelops Lucifer and Raphael.

Raphael breaks away from Lucifer and turns around to face Amenadiel. Sweat drips from his forehead; his mouth is dry, and his breath is quick and shallow. His eyes stare out blankly, belying the magnitude of what he's just done. As he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze fixes on Lucifer who is sleeping, peacefully. Ignoring the hurt that he has taken inside of him, Raphael smiles, if only briefly.

Then it hits him; the coldness inside turns white hot as he feels as if a burning blade has just stabbed him. Gasping for breath, he doubles over in pain as he feels the full impact of Lucifer's injuries.

All of his strength drains from him, as he falls to his knees, Raphael crosses his arms over his stomach, clutching tightly as the painful injuries he has transferred to himself begin to manifest.

Amenadiel rushes over to the stricken angel as he collapses onto the floor, "no! Rafe—No!" Amenadiel screams.

"What have you done?" Amenadiel whispers as he cradles the convulsing angel in his arms.

Raphael is shaking, his face glistens with sweat, swallowing hard, he takes a deeply pained breath and closes his eyes. "I healed him," he grins.

"Yes, I can see that," Amenadiel murmurs, "but at what cost? Don't tell me you transferred his injuries and pain to your body? You resorted to transference to heal him, didn't you? Rafe, why would bring all of that upon yourself-suppose you can't shake it off?"

Feeling the full brunt of Lucifer's pain, Rafe is panting and moaning,looking up at his brother, he squeezes out, "it worked, didn't it?"

"But at what cost?" Amenadiel cries, "Why? Would you do this?"

"Because he's my brother," Raphael whispers, "Haven't you ever put yourself in harm's way for someone you love before?Besides, it felt good to stick it to Michael. He knows what I have done today. He already threatened me with dire consequences if I was to heal Luci and save him from his fate."

"Did you speak to Michael?"

In too much pain to speak, Raphael nodded, "yes."

Worried sick, Amenadiel scolds him, "you're an idiot."

Amenadiel notices that Raphael's aura has almost disappeared and that the dim glow left, flickers like a failing fluorescent light, his life force was quickly fading. "Rafe, how did you expect to get out of this?" He demands.

"I…I thought…I could push it all out…but it's too painful. I can't center myself enough to call upon the light to help me." Raphael begins to slip away; he is falling in and out of consciousness.

Tears stream down Amenadiel's face as he implores Rafe, "stay with me, please…"

"I can't hold on much longer Amenadiel, please let me go." Raphael's head falls to one side, freeing the pendant from his collar.

Amenadiel couldn't help but notice the strange symbols engraved in the silver and the huge turquoise stone in the center of the pendant: it was oddly compelling. "Rafe—Rafe, what is this pendant?" He holds it up to the angel's face so he can get a good look at it.

"Oh, he smiles, clutching the pendant to his chest, it's for spiritual healing and meditation…"

"How do you use it," Amenadiel presses him?"

"Like this…" Raphael rubs the beautiful blue-green stone with his thumb and almost immediately, he begins to feel calmer and clearer. A few minutes later, he can control his pain long enough reach a calm centered state. His aura brightened significantly, its soft glow grew steady once again. The Archangel smiles weakly as he feels the warmth of the white light returning to his hands.

While it took longer than he'd imagined, Raphael was finally able to get the upper hand on clearing the negative energy and jettisoning it from him. The effort left him so exhausted, that he could barely keep his eyes open, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

All of these close calls with his brothers has frayed Amenadiel's nerves. He can't help but feel frustrated by his headstrong siblings. As he felt the flush of his anger rising to his face, he tries to quell that angelic temper of his from clouding his judgment. Although, he wasn't sure which one of his brothers he wanted to strangle first. They were equally driving him crazy. Turning his eyes skyward, he offers up a prayer of thanks, "Father, please keep them safe: I know that's not an easy task for these two." Then, he falls asleep still cradling Raphael in his arms. Soon all three angels are snoring and sound asleep.

Some time later, Raphael awakes with a start; he feels the pain has gone, lifting his tunic; he sees the injury is gone too. Breathing a big sigh of relief, he feels like his old self. Jumping to his feet, the newly restored angel of healing is visibly elated. Let's see if I've still got the old touch back!

Amenadiel scrambles to his feet, "now what are you up to?"

"Dear brother, I'd like to give you a parting gesture, a token of my appreciation for saving me, from certain death. I know you've been through so much lately and I'd like to calm your mind and remove any stress that Luci and I may have brought upon you."

"You can do that?"

"Calm a troubled mind? Yes, it is one of my talents."

Placing one hand on each temple, Raphael becomes still while he summons his healing fire. This time, it appears. The familiar green rays of light stream from his fingers and ripple across Amenadiel's face and head where it is absorbed and melts away. Amenadiel breathes a deep sigh; his shoulders relax, and his head flops back. All traces of anxiety and frustration melt away from his face, his seemingly permanently furrowed brow, smooths out, and he looks like his old calm, cool and collected self.

Flashing that brilliant smile of his, Amenadiel thanks, Raphael, "I haven't felt this great in a long time."

Affectionately slapping Amenadiel on his back, Raphael declares, "I have finished my work here."

"Are you certain that you're going to be okay? What about Michael, I'm sure he'll be none too pleased about the outcome of Luci's fate?"

"I've never been better, and as for Michael, I can handle him if necessary. Now, I must be off as I'm already needed back home. Apparently, some squabbling angels have damaged each other's wings!"

The brothers embrace affectionately, and Raphael disappears in a flash of green light.

A few moments later, Lucifer wakes with a start, his eyes dart around the room, searching for Raphael. Sensing that Amenadiel is still in proximity, he whispers, "Rafe is gone, isn't he?"

"Yes, Luci, he just left."

The Murderous Heart

His disappointment is evident as he shakes his head from side to side on the pillow, "Why?" Lucifer asks glumly. Searching Amenadiel's soft ebony eyes for an answer, the forlorn angel turns away from him and crosses his arms over his chest. "Why did he leave without saying goodbye to me? We may never see each other again. I wanted to thank him for healing me and for risking Michael's wrath."

"Luci, Rafe didn't need you to _say_ anything, the peaceful, pain-free expression on your face was _thank you_ enough for him. Let's just leave it at that. Now that he's figured out a way to come down here, obviously with Father's approval, I'm sure we will see him again. Besides, he seems unconcerned about what Michael thinks one way or another."

"Right then," exclaims a suddenly chipper Lucifer. No longer in the doldrums, he jumps out of bed, "Amenadiel, would you like a cup of tea? I've been jonesing for one for days."

"What, no requests for whiskey and cigarettes?" He smiles, "and yes, Luci, I'll take a cup of tea—with no milk or sugar."

"Bloody Hell! You feathered bastard, of course, I'm dying for a drink and a smoke, but I know asking you for them will be pointless, he frowns." Still dressed in the black tee shirt and jeans that he'd worn while at Doctor Linda's office, his beard had overgrown his usual five o'clock shadow. Lucifer's hair formed unruly curls around his handsome face. The scruffy look suited him.

Still, in his bare feet, Lucifer pads around Amenadiel's kitchenette fixing tea for them both. Grumbling about the uncivilized lack of real teacups in the house, he serves up his tea for two in mugs—much to his dismay.

"Whoa, there Luci, time to take your meds." Amenadiel hands his him a glass of water and an entire handful of meds. Maintaining the schedule like clockwork, he watches his brother like a hawk making sure he takes every last pill.

Handing off the mug of tea to his brother, Lucifer makes himself comfortable by curling his long legs up on the bed. Sipping his tea, he finds himself in a talkative mood. "You, know what irks me…"

He sits backward on the straight back chair, the only other stick of furniture in the apartment, knowing that he's in for a garrulous talk. "No Luci, what irks you?" Amenadiel chuckles.

Lucifer dives right in, "I don't understand Michael. Why does his hatred of me continue to grow after all of these eternities? After all, I'm sure he's gotten from Dad, all that he ever wanted, which was to be his favorite. I was gone a long time ago in that department. He lords over our brothers with an iron fist. Look at how long it took Raphael to sneak off behind his back to help me. Could it be that he's still resentful that Dad wouldn't let him off me for good?"

"On the day, Father cast me from heaven, I'll never forget the look of contempt Michael had, that sneering smile, his teeth were bared, like a wild animal. He had me exactly where he wanted me. I was one twist of the sword under my heart, away from death. He was going to show Dad and all of you, who was the knight in shining armor, fighting to rid heaven of its evil stain— _me."_

"When Father stopped him from killing me, he slid me off of his sword with his foot to my throat. He kicked me in the gut and sent me reeling. But Father was the one who closed the deal that day when he threw me out of heaven forever. As I lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, I heard Father say to Michael; _I have a far greater punishment in store for your brother. Killing him now would not serve the purpose that I have intended for him. Rest assured that He will suffer this fate until the end of time."_

"Then he let loose a bolt of lightning from his hand that struck me, and burned me all of the precipitous way down my fall."

Amenadiel hadn't participated in the rebellion, and he wasn't present for the epic battle between brothers, nor had he witnessed God casting Lucifer out of Heaven. He'd heard many versions of what went down on that day, but this was the first time he'd heard it from Lucifer's perspective.

"Be that as it may, Luci, hell did not yet exist when Father cast you out. I think that He channeled his anger at you, by having you fill a job that he was about to create. A unique role that would serve a purpose that was about to present itself. He may not have considered you before, but on that day, when you pushed the old man to the brink; that's when He got the brilliant idea to punish his favorite son instead of letting Michael smite him. He had a position to fill; he needed someone to rule the new realm he'd created. You made it easy for him to decide, favorite son or not, you would be the one he chose to rule hell. It doesn't seem like much forethought went into it."

"Do I think his actions were impulsive? Yes, but from where do you think you get your impulsiveness? From where do you think, you get your temper? The apple didn't fall too far from the tree. You are your Father's son in that respect."

"Luci, Raphael opened up to me about Michael. He told me that things hadn't gone the way Michael would have liked. That even after everything that has gone down between you and Father—He still loves you. Nothing Michael can ever do, will be able to change that. Michael knows that you always have, and always will be his first, and favorite son—and it drives him crazy. I don't know what you are going to do with that, but none-the-less, there it is."

Lucifer sat back and listened to Amenadiel intently, but suddenly, his anger rises and he tries to kill the messenger. He Leaps up from the bed, grabs Amenadiel by the throat and lifts him off the ground. His blood red eyes stab into his brother; he is furious.

Then he loosens his grip, his black eyes glisten with tears, his expression is so pitifully sad, that he looks away from his brother. "Do you think he had someone else in mind?" He whispers.

"Luci, I don't think you were his first choice, it was a knee-jerk reaction."

Tears are streaming down his face, "why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I think that Father has known for quite some time that he made the wrong choice, as he sees the toll being the devil has taken on you."

"Oh, and I suppose you have a pretty good idea who his first choice would have been…don't, you?"

"Well, yes, Amenadiel locks into the pained searching eyes of his brother."

Luci, growls, "go on, out with it, who was it? His fists are clenching, fingers releasing in anger—who was Father's first choice to rule hell?

Certain things among brothers, certain secrets, were never to be revealed, this was perhaps the most guarded, the most revealing, heaven-shattering of all. Amenadiel looked Luci straight in the eye and said, "Michael."

Lucifer's eyes widened in utter disbelief, "no, that's impossible, not his hero, his protector—God's defender?"

"Luci, Michael has always carried murder in his heart when it comes to you. He has been the long-standing jealous sibling who vied for Father's love and attention and always hated you because you had it."

"You were the first of us all, father's favorite. Because you were the first, father had the highest expectations from you—but you had a mind of you own, and you were rebellious."

"Long before your fall, Michael wanted you gone, he longed to see you destroyed by Father; he did what he could to fuel that fire including inciting discontented angels into full on rebellion. For Michael, it has always been about appearances—but in reality, his intentions were never pure or selfless. He is duplicitous and Father knows it."

Father stopped him from killing you, from removing you from existence. And, that nearly destroyed Michael with hatred and anger. Over the years of his reign, he used his power to bend us to his will and to do his bidding, like the bully that he is."

"It is clear that Father has never stopped loving you, and that the tough love thing has worn. Michael maintains the charade—he must."

"Why do you think that when you escaped hell that Father sent me instead of Michael? Shouldn't he have sent his defender down to smite you? Michael was itching for the assignment. But he sent me instead because I was the level-headed, fair-minded, loyal soldier without an agenda."

"Ha, and your pride got the best of you too if I recall,"

"Yes, it did, and I'm trying to make it up to you. But the difference between Michael and I is that he wants to end you once and for all, and I was trying to get you back to down to hell—as Father had asked me. Killing you up on earth so you could return to your rightful place in hell, is not quite the same."

Lucifer's head starts to spin from the cocktail of potent drugs; he'd taken earlier. He feels woozy as he plops back down on the bed and puts his hands over his face.

"Are you OK?" Amenadiel asks

"Are you still going to send me back down to hell?"

"No, Luci, I'm not."

"Even if it displeases Father?"

"Yes, I believe he should find someone else for the job, it is destroying you, and he has to see that now."

"Even if that someone, is you?"

"Not because he probably has already considered it, but I am not very good at it, he needs someone more suitable: like… _Michael_."

Yawning, Lucifer can no longer keep his eyes open. Laying back into the pillow, he drifts off. A final thought crosses his mind. If Asherah doesn't off me, it will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and Michael will surely not be able to stand aside any longer—he will come down and finish the task with or without Father's approval

 _Father will cast him out, and he will take my place in hell—for the rest of eternity. What a pathetic creature Michael is, he's almost laughable_.

Lucifer falls fast asleep, breathing rhythmically—in and out. Settling into a sound slumber, he dreams of Michael, the new king of hell: and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.


	16. Chapter 16: What If

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N:

Lucifer dreams of his fall from heaven.

In the aftermath of Amenadiel's revelation that Lucifer had not been God's first choice to rule hell, the devil broods over _why_. Why was he the one who was cast out—was it an impulsive decision on God's part, or, a calculated part of His plan?

An introspective Lucifer delves into the ramifications of _what if?_

While Amenadiel is off on a quick patrol of hell, Maze fills in as Lucifer's caretaker. Though her methods are sometimes questionable, she smuggles in exactly what the devil needs.

Things heat up between the devil and the demon—sparks fly…

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

CHAPTER 16: What If?

" _Hurled headlong flaming the ethereal sky, with hideous ruin and combustion down…"_ John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

Though it took days, from dawn to dusk and dusk to dark, to fall from heaven, all the way down to the nether world. In the final moments of his pernicious plunge, Lucifer found himself on a collision course headed straight for the center of the earth, to a territory long godforsaken.

In the final moments of his fall, like a shooting star entering the atmosphere with the speed and force of a meteorite, Lucifer bursts into flames. His skin melts away in excruciating waves of pain, his face deforms, mutating into a monstrosity. Insatiable fire, with a ravenous appetite, devours his body, spewing it out; charred and bloodied—flesh and bone grotesque. In the throes of his torment, he cries out: "Father please forgive me." Abandoned, he aches for that which he will never regain: his Father's love and the light of heaven.

A burning ball of flesh streaks towards its destination, in utter darkness, lighting the mournful gloom, if only briefly, as it passes through the tenebrous sky. Here, in this place that has no illumination, but rather a darkness visible exists a realm without dimension, where length, breadth and height, and time, and place, are lost. Save for the glimmering livid flames, cast pale and dreadful enkindled in the pit, waiting for unknown hands to stoke the fire. Surrounded as far as the eye can see, by a dreary plain, forlorn and wild; desolation pervades the region. Noxious vapors fill the air, the stench and smoke of brimstone affront the nostrils. What is this infernal place? A dungeon horrible on all sides round.

No one hears the explosion when the flaming body of Lucifer craters the bedrock foundation. Boulders quake, heaving up rock and soil, while the eruption rumbles through the underworld. Splayed within the center of the cavity, lie the remains of the brightest and most beautiful angel in all of heaven. What sadness befalls the Light Bringer, the Morningstar—God's favorite son. For now, the hulking wreck lies face down in a pool of his blood, unrecognizable from the scorch of flames; the crash-down shatters his every bone. Lucifer's devastating fall leaves him near-lifeless.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. When finally, little by little, Lucifer's injuries begin to ameliorate. His body coalesces, bones repair, and his skin, though mottled purple-red and scarred, melds back together. His once handsome face, now horribly disfigured, that perfect body, hideously marred. He'd fallen so far, from perfection to aberration. _He would never be as he once was, ever again_.

 _Second Best…_

Eternities upon eternities later, Lucifer awakens in Amenadiel's bed…

"w _hy am I not…dead? Damn immortality.''_ He curses.

"W _here am I? …Oh, I'm still here…"_

Wiping the sleep from his bleary eyes, Lucifer rubs his face with his hands; a wide yawn spreads from his mouth. Languor hangs over him persistently, like a pall. The effects of the nightmare taper off, impelling the fallen angel back into the moment. The chilling events of his fall, weigh heavy on his mind and spirit as they continue to bubble up from his subconscious. Try as he might, the onslaught of raging emotions would not stop, leaving him in a state of exhaustion in their wake. It's no wonder that his first thought of the day, should be a continuation of his last. When Amenadiel first revealed that Michael was to have been God's first choice to rule Hell, Lucifer's mind had gone blank. He was sent reeling as the rug got pulled from under his feet. _Michael, the boss of hell—that had to be a joke._

Lucifer remained blasé on the subject. He'd blown it all off, wisecracking his way past the elephant in the room, he dismissed the whole Michael thing, claiming; "that it did _not bother him—not one bit._ " The devil never lies, he bends, obfuscates, and outright omits, but he doesn't _lie_ — _only to himself_. For someone who _couldn't care less_ , he'd spent most of the night pondering the scenario, rolling it around in his mind, until it began to make sense to him—painful sense

"Michael, you prick, if you were Father's first choice, why didn't he send you packing down to hell? What would my life have been, had I never fallen?" Lucifer growls at the murky starless sky, where in the darkness, thick clouds cast crooked haloes around nighttime lights that attempt to twinkle through the haze of ever-present L.A. smog. Crossing his arms behind his head on the pillow, lying snug in bed, enveloped by crepuscule's dim, he tries to recall his nocturnal musings from the night before when he'd dredged up some crucial pieces to solving the puzzle. Why did the Old Man turn around and cast him out to rule hell, instead of his brother?

On further retrospection, deep down inside, Lucifer concedes: it was never a matter of _how_ , it was always, only, a matter of when. _When_ , would he have pissed off his Father enough, pushed Him enough, to punish His _favorite_ son so severely. Alone in the heavy quiet of the room, Lucifer lets out a long sigh of exasperation, as he had to admit, Dear Old Dad's choice to send him to hell was not the impulsive act that he'd thought it was. Lucifer would just have to accept it; he'd have to begrudgingly accede, that it was all a part of God's well thought out plan, and—it was brilliant.

 _Two Little Words…_

All of this began, from time immemorial. Father had created me as a seraph. In the hierarchy of angels, we are of the highest rank; above the cherubim and the archangels. We seraphim, exist only in the most rarified part of heaven—surrounding Father's throne. Our sole purpose is to protect and wield the light of his divine love and goodness. His love was my life's blood; running through my veins. He was the center of my universe. My sole purpose in existence was to love and serve Him. All of which would have been fine, except, that'd he'd made me slightly different from all the rest of my brothers, and it would only be a matter of time before I would succumb to my true nature.

When one day, as I tended to my divine filial duties, an infinitesimal thought crossed my mind. It was only two words— _What if?_ What if there was no _Him_? Don't get me wrong; words could not express how much I loved Him; with all of my being. But was there something more to life than singing His praises in the never-ending chorus? Yes, we made the sweetest sounds, but after eternities upon eternities, it started to wear thin. It was already too late for me; I didn't know it yet, planted within me was the seed of discontent, from that single thought.

I had been the first, the prototype for all to follow, save for one trait: my free will. Father did not bestow that gift to any of my other brothers, most likely because he'd learned from me, that free will could eventually lead to freethinking (Quelle horreur!), and that would undermine the entire angelic host. While He was at it, the Old Man should have struck _free_ —anything and everything—from our vocabulary, because, we angels, the sons of God, weren't—aren't— _free_ —even to this day.

Being immortal is a very, very long chunk of time, during which, one gets plenty of opportunities to ruminate. The tiny seed began to germinate, and, I had more thoughts that disturbed my bliss. I began to question _my very existence_ ; I wanted to know: _is that all there is?"_ I tried my best to hide it, but for eons, these tiniest thoughts ate at me. There was simply no way that Father didn't know; even the faintest glimmer of apprehension would trip off the flashing warning lights of His divine radar.

When He finished creating the earth and the humans: His newest playthings, the objects of all His undivided attention. I began to see how tenuous my existence was. I felt ignored, passed over and resentful; that I should be forced to serve these inferior, seriously-flawed, beings.

In heaven, we were always surrounded by His love. I basked in it. But the humans were given the capacity to contain his love physically. Father had given them an added feature that we spiritualized angelic creatures did not possess—He gave them a _soul_. A soul that emanated from their innermost gut that could glow from within with blindingly shining, white purity and love. Yes, we angels had the ability to love Father and to feel his love for us, but it was more of an existential experience. Though for humans, it was—visceral.

Father knew from the nanosecond of when— _what if—_ crossed my mind, that I would be heaven's malcontent, the apple that would spoil the bushel. Freewill and freethinking are what got me into this, not pride. I never wanted His throne, I never wanted any of that, all I wanted, was to be my own man. When serving the humans, entered the picture, the other foot came down, and I balked. I wasn't the only one. Nearly all of my angelic brothers felt the same way. Although, most resigned to His will and buckled under, many of us who were incensed—we let our displeasure be known.

Michael mined this for all it was worth, never having the mettle to question Father. His _yes-boy_ saw an opening and incited his brothers into a full-on rebellion. It was a trap, deceit, where Michael would show us all what a valiant and righteous protector of God's will, he was. That included offing me into oblivion. Then he could take my place. However, now that I think about it, I believe that Father had other things in mind.

 _Like Siberia…_

"Ugh, the confines of these four walls are wearing thin, I'm feeling the need to climb them," Lucifer huffs. "Lying around in bed rehashing events that happened eternities ago isn't going to do me any good. Right now, I'd give my halo for a drink and a smoke—if only I had one…

He wrenched himself from the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxer shorts: rumpling the covers off into a jumble, he leaps onto the cold floorboards. "Shit, it's like Siberia in here —minus the vodka. My feet are already cold as ice," he complains. Blowing warm puffs of breath into his cupped hands while hopping about the room to stave off the cold—how _undignified_! Then he stood at the window for a while, looking at the carpet of lights glimmering in the distant Hollywood Hills… thinking. Surely, Amenadiel must have a few articles of clothing stashed away somewhere in this little box. But no luck, not even in the over-grown cupboard which contained his sword, armor and angel's frock, and not a stitch of anything else. For a second, Lucifer entertained the idea of wearing Amenadiel's frock, but quickly nixed it, "the _dress_ would surely go up in flames if l were to try it on," he chuckled.

"Seeing as how there will be no time off for good behavior, I'll just wait out my release from jail until tomorrow and let the good doctor determine whether I've gone mad or not. If I stay in here too much longer, I guarantee, that I'll become a certifiable, stark-raving lunatic."

Circling the only other furniture option in the entire apartment, Lucifer plops himself onto the rickety straight back chair. Chilled to the bone, he sits up stiffly, with his arms clutching his sides—shivering.

 _Amazing Maze_

Someone fumbled about outside the apartment door. The jingle of change and other small items clattering to the ground, followed by a clink and the thud of keys. A litany of curses erupts, trailing off into muffled rants behind the still locked entrance. A few moments of silence…are quickly shattered by an explosive metallic bang as the door bursts open from the indelicate kick of Maze's boot.

Another round of cursing fills the hallway as she tries to wrap her arms around two, unwieldy, grocery bags, filled with Lucifer's stuff. Earlier, she'd entered his closet like a cyclone, grabbing a cursory conglomeration of personal items willy-nilly. On a last-minute whim, she decides to nab a bottle of bourbon and a pack of Lucifer's cigarettes. Knowing she'd have to smuggle them in _illicitly_ , she stashes them under his effects. Maze was sure that after a month-long ban on liquor and smoking, that her lord would be hankering for both. Besides, his sleep-cure was coming to an end.

The demoness could care less if Amenadiel, Lucifer's self-imposed caretaker, would not approve— _to hell with him_! Having left town on a last-minute patrol of the nether regions, he'd called Maze into action to look after her master while he was gone.

 _Enough of Amenadiel's by-the-book caretaking, I know what Lucifer needs—better than anyone else._

Inside, the apartment obscures into semi-darkness. Fortunately, Maze has no problem navigating through pitch-black surroundings, after all, there is no darker place than her homeland—she was used to it. Plunking the bags down on the kitchenette counter, Maze swings around to face the four-poster bed where Lucifer has been spending most of his time sleeping. Her stomach clenches when she sees that the bed is empty. Scanning the room, she makes out Lucifer's silhouette, he's sitting on the wooden chair, with his back to her. How odd she thinks, he hasn't said a word to me, no way he didn't hear me kick in the door.

"Lucifer, are you okay?" she asks, as she quickly moves to his side. Lucifer makes no attempt to move or to answer her. Could he be asleep?

Maze finds Lucifer's stillness unsettling; he seems preoccupied. Sitting up with his hands clasped in his lap, staring straight out the window, he doesn't make the slightest move or sound to acknowledge the demon's presence. She knows better than to touch him; he looks like he's in a trance. Outside, a street light casts an eerie glare onto Lucifer's face, revealing a pinched expression, his eyes were squeezed shut, his breath whispered shallow from his lungs. Was he paler than usual, or was it the light's glare on his face that made him appear as white as a ghost? How could this be? Wasn't he taking a pile of narcotics to sleep? Amenadiel told her just yesterday that he was feeling much better. Now, Maze is concerned; she wants to get a better look at him. Reaching for the light switch, she's stopped dead in her tracks by the sudden sound of her master's voice.

Lucifer murmurs, "Don't. Please don't."

"Suit yourself, stay in the dark; I'm only trying to help you," Maze retorts. "Why are you shivering?" She asks as she feels his forehead and hands. "You're cold as ice!" she exclaims.

"Amenadiel has rigged the thermostat to go no higher than sixty degrees in here, something about his angel metabolism running too hot. That's about twenty-five degrees too cold for this devil. It's a wonder that I haven't suffered from frostbite." Lucifer says while rubbing his hands to heat them up.

"Well then, stop whining, let's get you warm," Maze says as she pulls the blanket off of the bed and wraps it around Lucifer. "Oh, and I have something else that will warm you up," she smiles. Rifling through the bags on the counter, she pulls out the bottle of bourbon and retrieves two glasses from the cupboard. "Look what I have for you," she coos. Crouching down before him, she passes the bottle under his nose so he can get a good look at it.

An audible sigh escapes Lucifer's mouth, his pained expression quickly gives way to eager anticipation, a broad smile widens across his face. Maze pours out a generous, few fingers worth of bourbon into his glass and hands it to him. "Rapture!" he exclaims. Lucifer's hand, shakes ever so slightly, as he raises the glass to his lips, stopping for a moment to inhale its heady nose of vanilla, oak, and caramel, with hints of cotton candy and subtle smoke (he finds the scent of smokiness to be an olfactory delight). Closing his eyes in pleasure, Lucifer savors that first sip, that mouthful of sweet-fruit-spice: the smooth burn he has so sorely missed, that velvet-with-a-bite alcohol finish, as the amber inebriant slips down his throat. A radiating sensation from its gentle warmth trickles all the way down to his belly.

"Ah, ah," Maze cautions, "don't try gulping it down, or I'll take it away from you."

Holding the glass protectively—and out of her reach, he pleads, "you wouldn't?"

"Don't test me," she growls.

Happily licking the spicy-sweet whiskey from his lips, Lucifer gives off a wistful sigh, "if only I had a smoke to go with this elixir from Kentucky, it would be heaven on earth."

"Well, today may be your lucky day, I almost forgot—these." Maze says playfully, as she tosses the pack of cigarettes at him. The look of astonishment on Lucifer's face was priceless, staring in utter disbelief at the pack of cigarettes having landed square into his lap.

"Mazie, you are best!" he murmurs. "No one takes care of me like you do… _when_ you want to, that is." He chuckles.

"Damn right they don't," Maze counters as she prepares his next dose of meds. Here take these, offering a big glass of water, she presents him with a handful of pills to swallow down. "If you're a good devil, I'll let you have another nightcap before you go to bed." She smiles.

Leering, "I'll tell you what I could use as a nightcap before going to bed…"

"And what would that be?"

"The Brittany's— _all_ of them."

"So, you're horny, aren't you?" she smirks.

"Yes, very much so—achingly so. It's been over a month since I last…"

"Got laid?"

"Exactly!" He moaned.

"Hmmm, we'll just have to see what we can do about that…" Maze snickers.

"Come on, you are still shivering, let's get you to bed," she commands. Lucifer doesn't budge. Narrowing her eyes into angry slits, Maze grows testy with her charge's sullenness. "Okay, that's it, she sneers!" The demon comes at Lucifer like a small whirlwind, yanking him off of the chair, she gives him an unceremonious shove back into the bed. Before he can protest, she has him wrapped up and tucked in under the blanket. Inches away from his face, she bends before him, wagging her finger in front of his nose, like the little dominatrix that she is, "Stay there, or else." She scolds.

Lolling in bed, Lucifer revels in the newfound warmth melting back into his body. The warm glow rapidly intensifies into heat, a slow burn that grows and throbs within, the kind of heat that collects in his groin—the kind of heat that could cause him to unravel. Sucking air through his teeth, he whispers, "Maze…" His eyes rivet on the demon, following her every move. Flames tickle the periphery of his vision, Lucifer's eyes flicker red; he tries to squelch his devilish form from manifesting, but he knows he won't be able to suppress it for too much longer. Maze's not so gentle touch had unwittingly unleashed the devil within, like a genie released from the bottle.

In the kitchenette, Maze dumps out the contents of the bags onto the counter, "here are some clothes and personal stuff, I'll see you tomorrow." Turning on the high heels of her boots, she prepares to leave. But, before she's out the door, Lucifer calls her in a quietly plaintive voice, "Maze," he persuades, "please don't go…stay with me tonight," his tone suddenly turning husky, "I could use the company." He pats the bed beside him, giving her his best-kicked puppy dog look.

Ever since he'd become obsessed with his pet detective, Maze could count the number of times he'd invited her into his bed on the one hand. While she was ever at the ready for hot, heart-pounding sex, she hadn't gotten that vibe from her master—at least not today. It seemed that he was in need of solace, and though she found the concept difficult to comprehend, she would try her best to provide him with something like it.

"What the hell," she murmured under her breath, as she climbed into the bed with her master. Lucifer wrapped himself around her like she was his teddy bear. He tucked his head under her chin and snuggled on top of her breasts. The body heat thrown off from the demon, slowly smolders him, delicious waves of heat and pain overtake him. He still trembled ever so slightly; only it wasn't from the cold…

P.S. I'm sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger, what with Maze and Lucifer getting all hot and bothered. But, I must take a small hiatus next month, so that I can move. I'll be picking up right where I left off at the end of January, and resuming a regular writing schedule after that. There are still many, chapters to go in this story…

I do hope you are enjoying it. Feel free to review, or, to PM me, if you have comments or suggestions—I'd love to hear from you.

P.P.S I really, _really_ **hate moving** **!**


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